


You and the Moon and Neptune

by SageMasterofSass



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angel!Tsukki, Art as a means of escape, Basically everyone else is an angel, Bullying, Except when its not, Fanart, Human/Soul!Yamaguchi, M/M, Smut, Tsukki has very little game but the angels try to help, Tsukki is a hispter, Yamaguchi has plants instead of friends, Yamaguchi is an artist, but i promise its a happily ever after ending, but its really cute smut, cute first dates, hand holding, mind the warning kiddies, this entire fic is just fluffy fluff fluff, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 47,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMasterofSass/pseuds/SageMasterofSass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima was born with red wings. Red, the color of passion, intensity, and most importantly, love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, a few notes here. First, this is a multi-chaptered fic. I'm going to attempt to update every five days (because a week is too long for me to wait). However I'm going to warn you now that I don't have a good track record with longer fics; I tend to get bored or distracted along the way. I do, however, have a friend helping me with this one (and really half the credit should go to her, thank you Alexis!) so we'll see how I do. 
> 
> Secondly....I forgot what the second thing was. Fuck. Oh, right, the title is from a song called Bright by Echosmith! I'm actually making a playlist for this fic right now, and all of the chapters (besides the prologue) are going to be titled after a song from that playlist. I don't know if I'll get to use every song so I'll probably post an epilogue with the entire list available, but if you really want to get a feel for the writing listen to the songs before you read! 
> 
> Enjoy~

Soft fingers, unhurried and sure, brushed through Tsukishima’s vibrant red wings, aligning the soft, glossy feathers. Every touch made him want to stiffen, his spine straightening as he instinctually tried to move away from the intrusion on his personal space. He held himself perfectly still, however, knees to his chest and wings spread wide.  

Typically when an angel was going to leave their Division for any reason, permanently or not, the entire group would gather to groom the departing’s wings. It was supposed to harbor intimacy and closeness amongst the members, but Tsukishima was thankful he’d been exempted from that part of the tradition and that Daichi alone sat behind him, hands soothing if not intrusive.  If he had to endure the entire Division touching him he might actually reconsider his decision to leave. Not to mention the action seemed almost malevolent considering he was about to lose the very things Daichi was taking the time to clean and shine.

He sighed, dropping his head to rest against his knees and Daichi’s movements stilled.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he mumbled, giving his shoulders a few rolls to loosen his muscles. Holding his wings straight out was starting to get tiresome.

Daichi resumed his grooming, but his silence was expectant, like he knew Tsukishima was planning on continuing at his own pace. There was a reason his wings were a dark burgundy, the color of leadership and respect. And it wasn’t just because he held one of the highest ranks in their Division.

Tsukishima supposed the decision he’d made proved the coloring of his own wings; scarlet red flecked with spots of a deeper shade. They’d yet to start fading to white, the way aging angels’ did, but the few hundred years he’d lived held nothing in comparison to his overall life span. They’d turn in time.

“I don’t regret it,” he said eventually to the open air. “I want to go.”

A soft breeze rustled the trees, the long grass surrounding them bending against its soft push. Heaven was unique in that it could be anything that you wanted it to be. It was infinite, vast and complicated. He wondered briefly why Daichi had chosen to bring him here, of all places. The wind smelled of leaf litter and warm sun, but there were areas Tsukishima far preferred to this one.

Daichi hummed quietly. “I understand. It’s your purpose calling after all, of course you’d want to go, but you’re still nervous. That’s okay.”

Tsukishima didn’t have anything to say to that so he closed his eyes and tried to let his mind wander. He was disturbed almost immediately by the sound of grass being crushed under foot.

“Yo!” came an all too familiar voice.

Unwillingly, Tsukishima cracked open one eye to peer at the collection of individuals before him. Great, seemed like everyone from the Division had arrived. Before anyone got any brilliant ideas, he folded his wings primly, nearly catching Daichi’s fingers in the process and not caring.

Tanaka, who had spoken first, stepped forward. “We wanted to see you off!”

Somewhere from the back of the group came Hinata’s cry of agreement, and Tsukishima forced himself not to roll his eyes as he stood to greet them. Daichi followed suit, stepping around the blonde towards the crowd and, thankfully, out of his personal space.

Takeda and Ukai, Division leaders and the oldest of them all, white streaked wings as proof, both gave him winning smiles.

“You’ll do great!” Takeda chimed, and Ukai threw in a, “Don’t get distracted while you’re away.” Suddenly the entire group was speaking, throwing advice and farewells and good lucks. Tsuskishima ducked his head slightly, overwhelmed and appreciative but unwilling to show it in any form other than the scowl on his face.

He opened his mouth to speak, maybe to thank them, maybe to tell them all to be quiet, but was interrupted by a soft voice in his mind. It was neither masculine nor feminine, high nor deep, more of a feeling and a presence than an actual sound, and yet it still drowned out the din of the Division entirely. His Father.

“Are you ready?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering. “Yes.”  


	2. Children of the Sun (Chapter One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children of the Sun by Fire in the Hamptons
> 
>  
> 
> _Hooked on love in a mad world, night's on fire, where's my girl? I'm burning, heartbeat soaked in kerosene._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. I had some technical difficulties when I put this chapter up the first time, and I'm praying nobody read it because it was actually chapter two and wow spoilers sorry. But! This is the correct chapter so here we go again. 
> 
> (Also I won't be updating on a schedule, sorry, but I can promise that I'm so in love with this fic that you can expect updates every couple of days or so.)

24 Years Later

_“You’ll find me won’t you?”_

_“Carissime,” Tsukishima sighed, hands tightening around the ones in his grasp and his eyes slipping closed. “I’ll never stop looking.”_

_He couldn’t see it, but he knew they were smiling, and then there was the sweet, soft touch of lips against his own. “I look forward to it, Tsukki.”_

Tsukishima Kei jolted awake in his bed, heart pounding far faster than it should be and his stomach twisting, hollow and painful. For one terrifying moment pressure built in his throat and he thought for sure he was going to throw up, his body rigid with fear or panic or some other troublesome emotion he’d had to deal with far too often. It passed slowly, too slowly, and he gulped air into his burning lungs, a cold sweat making his skin clammy and uncomfortable.  

The dream swam just behind his eyes, a memory of a life he no longer lived and yet, without a doubt, would return to. It never failed to work him up, to make him kick away his blankets and pull his knees to his chest while his body settled, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. It was a reminder that he still hadn’t succeeded. That twenty four years on this Earth had so far been spent in vain, that somewhere out there his beloved was lost and Tsukishima could not seem to find the path that lead to them. He lived with the constant guilt, a weight on his heart that could never be relieved until his Carissime was found, but that particular dream, that memory, took his heavy heart and, if only for a few minutes, squashed it into tiny, bleeding pieces. He could do nothing more than drop his head to his knees and allow his mind to become meaningless, fuzzy static.

His breath sounded too loud in the dark quiet of his apartment. It was near empty; his bedroom held only a closet of unfolded clothing, the mattress he sat on and an alarm clock that rested on carpet that had stopped being white a few stains ago. The single window had dusty, cheap blinds drawn across it.

It took several minutes, but eventually Tsukishima’s chest stopped its heaving and the heavy burden of guilt began to ease away, leaving only a dull ache in its wake. He sighed, still a little shaky, and lifted his head.

 _“Oh, you’re awake!”_ came a chiming voice, and Tsukishima jumped, startled by the sudden noise.

 _“Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,”_ the voice, Tanaka he realized, continued, “ _I was just wondering if Noya and I were going to have to wake you up for work.”_

 _“You always sleep through your alarm,”_ Noya complained, far, far too loudly. Tsukishima only barely held in his groan. Of course his shitty morning would continue with these two idiots in his head.  

One power angels possessed was the ability to whisper in the ears of humans in order to guide and correct them. Tsukishima wasn’t exactly human; his body had been created by God (after all, his angelic essence would have eaten away and destroyed a real human body, even without his wings), but it was similar and it allowed the angels from his Division to speak with him. Most of the time he wished they didn’t, because honestly it was less whispering in his ears and more having multiple people in his head at a time, commenting on, insulting and even on occasion narrating his daily life. He’d given up privacy ages ago.

 _It’s too early for this shit,_ he thought at them, and then slipped out of bed to pad to the single tiny restroom his shitty apartment boasted.

 _“It’s eight am, that’s only too early for alcohol and political debates,”_ Tanaka informed him. _“Everything else is fair game.”_

The pair continued to chat animatedly at him, laughing together at their own stupidity, and Tsukishima went about with his morning ritual: piss, shower, brush teeth, get dressed, stare at the empty void that was his refrigerator and then decide to pick up breakfast on his way to work.

 _“You know, you should probably learn to cook or something,”_ Noya commented as Tsukishima was slipping his winter jacket on over his work uniform. _“All that pre-packaged food you eat isn’t very good for you.”_

 _I didn’t ask for your opinion on my diet,_ he snapped mentally, and then, to himself, because at the very least he could have private thoughts, _The less time I spend in the apartment the better. I can’t find them if I’m locked up all day._

Crisp November air hit Tsukishima in the face the moment he stepped outside, nipping at his exposed cheeks and fingers. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he took the stairs of his apartment two at a time until he touched down on the streets of Boston and could start his thirty minute walk to work. Oh the joys of being working class and unable to afford a car.

The streets were fairly busy for only nine in the morning, but he supposed it was a week day and most people did have jobs to get to. Tsukishima dodged the traffic as best he could without having to touch anyone, and kept an eye on the people around him at the same time. Luckily it didn’t look like he was going to have to deal with any Omens today, which meant he could devote his time to searching for his Carissime.

Even Tanaka and Noya had grown quiet as he’d ventured out into the throngs of people. They too would be keeping an eye out for Tsukishima’s beloved, and would alert him instantly if they spotted anyone whose soul looked even vaguely similar. Or so they said anyways. Tsukishima certainly wasn’t going to put all his eggs into _that_ basket, and he made it a habit to scan his surroundings as often as physically possible.

There was a small brick and stone building two blocks over called the Dog Leg Coffeehouse that Tsukishima frequented for his breakfast and for late night coffee runs. It had a quiet atmosphere, a warm, heady scent, and baristas who didn’t try to hit on him or look down their noses at his complicated orders. But most importantly, it was cheap.

Tsukishima pushed open the café’s door, the tinkling of a bell signaling his entrance, and shuffled his way into the small line already formed.

 _“Coffee’s bad for you too,”_ Tanaka grumbled.

Tsukishima resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d learned early on that responding to his Division in an outwardly fashion often got him concerned or wary glances from the people around him, and he’d never been a fan of attracting too much attention to himself.

_I literally could not care less. Please go elsewhere with your opinions because I promise they’re neither wanted nor appreciated here._

Tanaka mimed the noise of a hissing, spitting cat, and Tsukishima ordered his coffee and a blueberry muffin with his nose in the air and a frown on his face.

Once his food items had been collected, Tsukishima was one his way again, through the busy crowds, eating his breakfast slowly so as not to break the concentration needed to watch the faces of those around him. Honestly he could have spent all day every day walking these streets. For one, he loved the winter chill and the bite of the cold air against his skin, and secondly being on the move, looking, searching, eased his guilt monumentally. But his body had been created to be as human like as possible, and that meant having needs that had to be taken care of, most of which required money. So working it was. At least his job wasn’t _too_ terrible, and it still allowed him to people watch, though he was limited to just those who walked through the door.

Sweet Melody Music Shop may have had a ridiculous name, but it paid well and was pretty popular considering most of their merchandise could be downloaded illegally online for free. It was nestled in between an antique store and a barber in one of the older areas of town. The faded display windows were filled with records, several guitars, an electronic keyboard and a couple pairs of Beats headphones. He wasn’t sure when the last time they’d changed them was, or if they’d ever been changed at all and simply added on to. Knowing the owner, the latter was certainly a possibility.

Tsukishima entered the store, already open, and made his way to the employee room to hang up his jacket. Besides him there were only two people who worked there; the owner, Akiteru, who was there every day, and a girl named Saeko who took all of the shifts Tsukishima didn’t.

Just as Tsukishima was emerging back on to the floor and preparing to hunt Akiteru down to let him know he was here, a too bright voice filled his head.

 _“Good morning!”_ it practically screeched, and Tsukishima couldn’t help wincing.

 _Volume control,_ he reminded Hinata testily, straightening his features as he resumed his search for his absentee boss.

Noya and Tanaka both sounded greetings (sometimes it felt like the other angels were using his head as a social meeting place to get together and hang out), asking Hinata about a recent mission of his. They all specialized in different areas, tasked, as all angels were, with protecting and defending the human race from themselves and each other. They often left by themselves and in groups to complete missions to accomplish this. Tsukishima was just glad Tanaka and Noya were keeping Hinata busy.

As of late, Hinata had taken to playing twenty million questions whenever he dropped by. It would be merely annoying if every question wasn’t centered around Tsukishima’s undying love and loyalty for his Carissime. That alone took the bar from annoying to completely insufferable. Though he’d never outwardly admit it, each question left Tsukishima’s chest feeling oddly hollow, like a clock gutted of all its gears and metalwork. Because some of the questions actually had merit.

 _“What if you find them and you’re just not attracted to their body?”_ was one of Hinata’s favorites.

 _I’m pansexual, attraction won’t be an issue,_ was always Tsukishima’s response. Which, really, wasn’t how pansexuality worked he knew. But at the very least Hinata moved on to a different question (at the most he dropped it entirely, and those were rare and beautiful moments).

The three angels continued to converse rather loudly and Tsukishima found Akiteru crouched behind the main counter with a small sea of boxes surrounding him.

Ever since they’d been confused for siblings by a customer, Akiteru had taken to calling Tsukishima ‘Little brother’ or, more recently, ‘Lil bro’ rather than by his actual name. And they did look a bit alike, but Tsukishima’s hair was lighter and Akiteru’s eyes were more of a warm brown than the striking gold his young counterpart sported. Still, the nickname was off putting and the only reason Tsukishima put up with it was because the man was his boss (and yeah okay maybe he was a little fond of Akiteru as well but only a tiny, miniscule bit). 

“Just the person I wanted to see!” Akiteru crowed, jumping to his feet and doing an awkward dance out of the mess around him, which, most likely, he’d created. He came around the side of the counter and went to clap Tsukishima on the shoulder as he spouted instructions on where the boxes needed to be emptied and what to do with the left over cardboard. At the last second his hand paused, withdrew without Akiteru missing a single word, and Tsukishima let out a deep breath of relief.

Being touched was just….well, to put it bluntly, no. He’d flinched away from Akiteru enough times that, blessfully, the man had realized how uncomfortable he was and started taking action to correct it. There were still times he attempted to slap Tsukishima on the back or casually throw an arm around his shoulders, but he almost always caught himself.  It was people like him who made Tsukishima realize just why he was tasked with protecting the human race. 

From Heaven, his job had always seemed just that; a job. He specialized in protecting against Omens, a type of early warning that allowed him to save humans from meeting an early or ugly demise, and he’d been damn good at. But he’d had no passion or motivation for the work, it was simply something to take care of from day to day. He’d thought spending time amongst the humans would only strengthen his disdain for them (well, disdain was probably the wrong word, he didn’t dislike like them but he hadn’t particularly liked them either) but these twenty four years down on earth had been…enlightening. Not everyone he’d met had sparked his interest, and there were certainly a number of people he’d curled his lip at, but there were a few who shone above the rest. There must be a reason his Father loved these beings, after all, and Tsukishima was willing to bet it was because of people like Akiteru. 

Tsukishima pushed up the thick rim of his glasses, nodded at his boss, and got to work unpacking boxes.


	3. Surround You (Chapter Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surround You by Echosmith 
> 
>  
> 
> _I searched valleys and mountain tops, rolling hills and ticking clocks were all I heard, all that sound. Never thought love could be found._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! A couple of new characters this time (including Saeko, who I adore) and a lovely cliffhanger! It's not too bad so don't worry. =3
> 
> Oh, and I meant to mention this last chapter but the Dog Leg Coffeehouse is actually a real place! It's a tiny little building about a twenty minute drive from where I live that I like to sit in and relax. Unfortunately I have to get up pretty early to go because they close at noon (why? I have no idea, it's ludicrous, which is why the one in the story is open 24/7). I write best when familiar with my topics/settings, which is why I moved the boys to Boston. The music store Tsukishima works in, however, is completely fictional (ridiculous name included).

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Tsukishima had traded out one pair of angels in his head for another. Since everyone had jobs of their own to complete they often rotated with each other, making sure someone was with Tsukishima at all times, even while sleeping. He honestly tried not to think about it too much because it felt far too close to babysitting for his ego.

Tanaka and Noya had, thankfully, left right around two to go tend to their own duties and Daichi and Suga had taken their places. Tsukishima was fairly grateful; they were quiet and respectful, asking after his well-being and not prying any further, and making only polite conversation during times when he was actually able to respond, i.e. not when he was dealing with customers. Tanaka and Noya had a knack for speaking at the same exact time as someone else, leaving Tsukishima grasping and trying to filter their voices out so that he didn’t accidently respond to the wrong person. They made his life so fucking difficult sometimes.

Hinata, was of course, still hanging around and being his usual, bouncy, childish self.

“Done for the day?” Akiteru asked when Tsukishima rolled his shoulders a few times to loosen them and then headed for the employee room. He nodded as he passed and went to grab his coat.

As he was coming back out, the bell for the front door chimed and Saeko strolled in, in all her punk glory, thick eyeliner, leather jacket and studded shirt included. She was the only other employee for the small store and though her appearance sometimes threw Tsukishima off a bit he could admit she was an alright person and certainly had good taste in music. She also tended to remind him of a certain noisy angel.

“Yo!” she called, raising one hand in greeting. The other clutched a small plastic bag that she threw carelessly onto the counter. “I brought snacks! How much do you love me?”

Akiteru fell onto the bag with amazing speed, crowing about his undying love while simultaneously ripping into the packaging for a bear claw. He devoured it voraciously and was reaching for a second when Saeko, previously smirking with her chin in the air, smacked his hand away.

“Save some for Tsukishima too!” she scolded, and then smiled brightly at him. He gave a smug grin in return and snatched a small package of powdered donuts out of the bag before Akiteru could use her distraction to scarf the rest of the convenience store food down.

“Thanks.”

She gave a mock salute, tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth and then sauntered into the employee room, probably to change into the uniform.

Akiteru sighed, the counter in front of him littered with wrappings. “That girl is god sent,” he mused, leaning his head on his hand. “All I get is that lunch break and then I’m stuck here till I close at ten. I get so hungry.”

“Just close earlier then,” Tsukishima said bluntly, and Akiteru reared back, hand clasped over his chest and mock hurt written across his face.

“And break the trust of our valued customers? Never!” Typical smile sliding back into place he laughed and then made a shooing motion at Tsukishima. “Now get lost lil bro. I know you have aimless wandering to do so get to it.”

It wasn’t so much wandering as it was searching for something very dear to him, but Tsukishima wasn’t about to correct him. He said his goodbyes, calling out an extra one to Saeko who screeched one back (didn’t she realize the walls were as thin as paper? He could hear her just fine) and then headed back out into the chill air.

Tsukishima spent anywhere from six to twelve hours a day combing the city for his Carissime, depending on work and how much sleep he needed. Typically he woke up, went into the music store, left to search and then arrived home again around eleven to go to bed and wake up and repeat it all over again.

Today he planned on heading towards the more commercial part of Boston where most of the banks and the larger business were located. It wasn’t his favorite area but he hadn’t been there in a while and the key to finding his Carissime was searching everywhere multiple times for multiple days in a row.

 _Start looking,_ he told the three angels still with him and then started his walk, gaze sweeping the crowds as he moved.

Everything was quiet for several long, blissful moments and then-

 _“So,”_ Hinata began and Tsukishima sighed.

_What?_

_“Well…I mean, you already know what I want to ask about. Will you still love them even if they’re different now? Being human and living changes souls you know.”_

Of course Tsukishima knew. It was also something he’d thought about all too often, late at night when he couldn’t sleep and his apartment was too stifling around him, when he eventually gave in and went to walk the sleeping city. He’d thought it all over countless times but he was no closer to an answer than the day the question had first occurred to him.

When Tsukishima was born, he’d caused a bit of a stir in the angel community. An angel’s wing color always reflected their greatest aspect or strength, and red was considered extremely rare. It stood for love and passion after all, dangerous emotions that could overtake even the strongest willed, and many red-winged angels had suffered miserable fates in the past. Everyone had watched him with baited breath for the first century of his life, awaiting the day he fell and spiraled inevitably out of control, but Tsukshima ‘don’t touch me’ ‘I don’t have friends’ ‘I dislike everyone’ Kei disappointed greatly when he not only showed a great disinterest in love but in most emotions in general. By the time he was a hundred and twenty, most angels had lost complete and total interest in him.

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” someone had once told him, “maybe they weren’t meant to be red after all.”

Another had said, “The red could stand for something else. Malice, anger, anything but love.”

It had made him resent the wings he was born with, quietly and intensely wondering what, if any, purpose he could ever serve with faulty colors. What if he was a mistake? Not meant to be born?

Being placed into his Division hadn’t helped matters. He’d suddenly been surrounded by angels his own age, wings still bright and vivid, and every one of them had known themselves, their duties, their goals. Daichi with his burgundy coloring was a natural born leader. Tanaka’s feathers were lime green; he was a revitalizer, he brought energy to those around him. Suga’s were a pale blue dappled with the odd teal streak for motivation and understanding. They all matched their colors, and Tsukishima…Tsukishima did not.

When he was a hundred and thirty-five, he visited an area of Heaven he had never been to before. It was specifically made to hold the souls of those who had not yet been to live their lives upon earth. Shimizu, whose duty was to help keep the souls comfortable and orderly as they waited for their turn to descend, had asked Tsukishima to assist her that day. She was pleasant and quiet to be around and he’d had no qualms with lending her a hand.

That was the day he’d first seen his Carissime.

Unborn souls were unique because they had no true physical appearance, names, gender or sex. They took human-esque forms and were known for their translucent skin where their emotions and thoughts were displayed. When Tsukishima and his Carissime had locked eyes for the very first time, their entire body had turned the vibrant, bright red of his wings, complete with darker flecks, and he’d been so shocked he’d flown away as fast he could without giving even a word of explanation to Shimizu.

After that, Tsukishima was terrified. He’d lived his entire life believing that his wings were a mistake, that the color of his feathers was merely an error and that he’d never have a purpose beyond his general duty to protect humankind. He’d listened to the voices around him that said love was impossible for him, that he was too mean, too cynical, too aggressive and any other number of negative traits they’d labeled him with to ever fall for someone else.

Tsukishima spent a week fighting with hope and himself before he finally returned to find the unborn soul. Had it been anyone but his Carissime he’s sure the meeting would have been awkward and tension filled, but they were only too happy to take his hand and chat with him for hours on end, openly, easily. And Tsukishima found himself relaxing around them as well, able to let out his own thoughts for once in his life.

Every day for two years Tsukishima visited them, without fail, and every day his Carissime was just as delighted as the last to see him. It was around that two year mark that Tsukishima really, finally knew who his wings were colored for and the knowledge had left him giddy and shaking. As soon as he was sure of himself he’d flown straight to his Carissime, landed, and pulled them into a long, hard kiss. They’d been dazed at first but had laughed and kissed him back only too happily. It was around this time that’d he’d also given them the nickname Carissime, darling in Latin, as a way to have something to whisper endearingly against their skin when they laid together at night and watched the stars.

Tsukishima had never given a second thought to the fact that his Carissime was going to leave his side one day in order to be sent down to earth. When Shimizu informed him that it was nearly their time his first thought was _‘I have to go with them’_. It wasn’t completely unheard of for angels to live as humans from time to time, but none had ever been sent to simply follow a soul into their life. When Tsukishima got down on his knees and begged for the first and the last time ever, God had given him explicit permission and had then hand crafted an aging, growing, body in which he could reside. The only condition: Give up his wings until he returned to Heaven. He’d agreed almost immediately.

Twenty four years after following in their wake, he had yet to find his Carissime. And that worried Tsukishima greatly, because twenty four years on earth were hard, difficult things, and any number of hardships could have fallen on his beloved. What if Hinata was right and they were changed? What if he couldn’t even recognize them anymore? He’d seen souls return to Heaven ragged and torn and simply worn to pieces, his Carissime could be one of those and Tsukishima would be none the wiser. Any of the people moving past him on the street could be them and he wouldn’t have a clue because he was looking for the familiar vibrant red soul with the soft edges and the easy grin. They could be someone else entirely by now.

 _“Tsukishima you’ve stopped walking. Are you okay?”_ Hinata’s voice was soft, uncertain, and it pulled Tsukishima from his thoughts with a jolt not unlike being dunked in ice cold water.  He realized that he had, indeed, stopped in his tracks and was standing perfectly still on the sidewalk. People moving past him cast him annoyed glances and he quickly started walking again, shoving his hands into his pockets and ducking his head.

 _Your question was so stupid it almost made me lose consciousness,_ he snapped mentally, embarrassed to have Hinata catch him actually worrying and thinking about something he’d said.

 _“You’re so mean!”_ the smaller angel cried indignantly, and from his voice alone Tsukishima knew he was pouting.

Suga sighed. _“Now, now, children.”_

Tsukishima was about to respond to that when a sickly, rolling shudder traveling down his body nearly made him stop in his tracks again. It was familiar but completely unwelcome at a time such as this, and Tsukishima quickly began scanning the immediate area around him for its source. Without his wings finding Omens was a little more difficult than he was used to. They used to appear as dark auras hanging heavy over potential victims, and he knew which ones to give priority to based on just how black and dense the fog was. The darker it was, the sooner the person was going to die. He’d lost the ability to see Omens with his wings however, and now his only indicator was the twisting of his gut and his own intuition. It had been very frustrating when he was young and still getting used to his new body and the human world. A lot of people had died because he’d been unable and unsure of how to continue to do his job, but he’d learned from his mistakes and though he certainly couldn’t take care of nearly as large of an area as he used to, he was still able to protect at least those around him.

His stomach lurched when his gaze fell upon a small, dark-skinned woman in a clean, crisp business suit and he knew it was her who carried the Omen. Trying to be discrete as possible Tsukishima crossed the road and followed her as closely as possible. It was hard to determine when exactly fate would strike and he needed to be in grabbing distance in order to protect her. In the background of his mind Daichi, Suga and Hinata were all expectantly quiet. They knew better than to distract him when he was trying to do his job.

The woman had a quick, efficient stride and keeping up with her along the busy sidewalks proved to be difficult. Tsukishima was just beginning to wonder how long he was going to have to follow her when another unpleasant shudder raced down his body and he knew her time had come, just as they were coming up to an intersection. Moving as quickly as his body would allow, he reached out and grabbed her arm, tugging so hard that she spun and began to fall in the same instant and he caught her against his chest, backing them both up with a couple of few, shuffling steps. The moment his fingers made contact with her a car careened around the corner in front of them and bore down on the intersection without giving any signs of stopping, its front tire just barely brushing against the back of the woman’s high-heeled shoe. Had she continued walking it would have sent her flying and probably would have kept on going and the woman watched with wide eyes as it sped through a red light and off down the road.

There was a beat of stunned silence from the woman and the people around them and then she was looking up at him from where she clung to the front of his shirt, mouth open wide.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, just as the crowd began to clap.

Tsukishima pushed her off of himself as gently as possible and had to mentally remind himself that shivering and dusting his clothes off would be seen as rude and so fought the urge to do just that. God, he hated being touched. She was okay, and that was worth something, though it didn’t completely rule out his discomfort.

“Thank you,” were her next words, and she moved as if to hug him. “Thank you so much you saved my life!”

It had taken Tsukishima a long time to also get used to being thanked for saving people. Since angels had no physical form, nobody he’d ever saved before had known he was there or even that they’d been helped, just that by some miracle they were still alive. With a visible body people had begun to take notice and subsequently begun to acknowledge and thank him for his actions. It was entirely unpleasant.

“You’re welcome,” he said stiffly, holding up a palm and stepping back to escape the woman’s reaching arms. “Please watch where you’re going next time.”

With that Tsukishima turned on his heel and fled, the circle of people around them breaking apart to let him pass easily. He didn’t stop until he was a block away and could drop down onto a city bench and catch his breath. Honestly he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get used to that.

 _“Tsukishima,”_ Suga called quietly, and he sounded apologetic and excited all at the same time. _“I’m sorry to disturb you when you obviously need a break but, I really think you should turn around.”_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my wonderful beta, Alexis!


	4. Amazing Eyes (Chapter Three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amazing Eyes by Good Old War 
> 
>  
> 
> _You have amazing eyes, the right one's suspicious and the left one wants my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey fixing that cliffhanger. It's not much a resolution though, sorry.

_“Tsukishima,”_ Suga called quietly, and he sounded apologetic and excited all at the same time. _“I’m sorry to disturb you when you obviously need a break but, I really think you should turn around.”_  

Something in the tone of his voice, about those words, the phrasing, clued Tsukishima in immediately and his body went rigged.

_I’ve finally found them,_ he thought desperately, mind already beginning to whirl so fast he couldn’t focus on any one thing.

He was vaguely aware that Daichi was speaking to him in low, comforting tones, but Tsukishima could hardly hear him and didn’t care to listen anyways. His body was already moving to stand, one hand on the back of the bench he’d been seated on as he turned to face the entrance to a small art museum. Almost immediately his eyes were falling on a small, dark frame.

They weren’t necessarily short but they weren’t particularly tall either, with unruly looking hair so black it was tinged green, a notebook clasped to their chest as they shuffled out onto the sidewalk. They looked left, right, and Tsukishima caught a glimpse of dark but fair skin and brown eyes and then they looked up, straight at Tsukishima and the breath in his body stopped all at once, every muscle turning to stone.

_That’s Scorpius on his face,_ he thought dumbly into the sudden silence of his mind. _Antares is right there beside his nose._

When Tsukishima had told his Carissime he was following them down to earth they’d been overjoyed for all of half a second and then they had frowned and asked how he would find them. Only God, after all, knew where each individual soul went, and though Tsukishima had been promised he’d be set down near his love that alone couldn’t guarantee that they’d ever meet or recognize one another. On top of that his Carissime would likely have no memories of their time together, making Tsukishima solely responsible for bringing them together again.

“How will you pick me out of all the other people?” they’d asked.

Tsukishima had considered the question seriously before an answer came to him. Really young angels who needed help strengthening their powers were flown down to earth to practice focus and control on the humans. Since they were so little and their powers underdeveloped, touching humans simply left freckles of various sizes and shapes. It was something every angel had done as a child and a human myth had actually been spawned from the action, though the myth claimed the touches were kisses. If he focused Tsukishima was positive he could give his Carissime freckles, and any marks made on a soul before they reached earth always appeared on their physical bodies.

Watching the sky together and speaking in soft, quiet tones had been a favorite pass time of theirs. So Tsukishima had pulled his Carissime close, already planning the placement of each individual freckle to match those of the constellations they so often watched, and told them of his plan. They’d been delighted.

_I put Scorpius there because they, he, was supposed to be born in early November,_ his thoughts continued. _That’s him. My….my Carissime._

Only a brief moment had passed since their gazes had met and Tsukishima found the longer he looked at this man, average in size with round, soft features, large eyes, freckles sprinkled across his face the way Tsukishima had intended them to be, the more he realized that all his worrying and Hinata’s questioning had been in vain. He was hopelessly, completely and fatefully smitten. And they hadn’t even spoken yet.

_“I heard the call!”_ The screech was so loud Tsukishima physically reeled back as if slapped, his features falling into an angry, confused scowl. _“I came as fast as I could! Did you really find them, Tsukishima!? Where are they!?”_

The man shrunk away from Tsukishima’s angry expression, clutching the notebook in his arms even tighter to his chest as he ducked his head and started quickly down the side walk away from the angel. Before Tsukishima could even think of moving the man was swallowed by a crowd of people and vanished completely from view.

_“Was that them?”_ Tanaka asked, slightly out of breath from his outburst, and Daichi made a small noise of agreement, though he didn’t sound particularly happy. _“But they’re a dude. Gross.”_

_Shut up._ The words were freezing cold and almost completely silent, yet they managed to stun every angel into silence, even as Tsukishima’s body burst into motion, feet pounding against pavement as he tried to follow the path his Carissime had taken. _I lost them again because of you, so just shut the hell up._

The work day was coming to a close, however, and the crowds were not on Tsukishima’s side. They blocked his view, made it near impossible to run without having to push people out of his way and after two blocks he paused in the sea of it all, chest heaving from exertion. His fingers twitched by his sides, the muscles in his legs flexing as he fought the urge to continue running, to continue searching. Twenty four years of ingrained behavior pushed him on though, insisted he never give up until dead or victorious, and he quickly felt himself starting to give in. It didn’t matter if he didn’t know where they were going, that he could be running headlong in the completely opposite direction, just so long as he moved and kept the hunt going his instinct didn’t care.

_“Tsukishima!”_ Daichi’s voice cut through the din of his mind, freezing him to the spot just as he was about to pick up his sprint once more. _“Is this really a good idea? Think about it for a second. Even if, by some miracle, you managed to find him again, what would you say? You’re a complete stranger to him, he has no idea who you are.”_

The words stung a little. Tsukishima had grown used to the fact that his Carissime would have no memory of him, but it still wasn’t something pleasant to face. His fingers twitched again and he balled them into fists, the urge to _search_ still swimming just under his skin but tamed briefly by Daichi’s logic.

_“Tsukishima.”_ This time it was Hinata calling his name, sounding faintly nervous and unsure of himself. _“Daichi’s right, but really you don’t even need to keep looking. You have us!”_

_“Now that we know what he looks like, finding him will only take a couple of days at the most,”_ Suga finished, voice soothing, followed by loud blubbering from Tanaka who simultaneously tried to agree and apologize to Tsukishima. It ended with his yelling, _“I won’t stop looking until we find him! And I totally don’t care that he’s a dude it’s perfectly fine.”_

_I know it’s fine,_ Tsukishima snapped, the tension draining slowly from his body and his fists loosening until his hands hung limply by his sides. A sigh pushed itself through his lips and he shook himself briefly before glancing at his surroundings and trying to pinpoint where exactly he was. He hadn’t run far though and he was headed back in the direction of his apartment in no time.

Asahi and Noya both showed up on his walk home; apparently the Suga and Hinata earlier had sent out a Division wide notification that his Carissime had been found, hence Tanaka's intteruption. By the time he was unlocking his front door Ukai, Takeda, Yachi, Kageyama and Shimizu had all joined the party and were congratulating him with warm, too loud voices. He responded with a verbal grunt (he was alone, responding out loud once in a while was actually rather pleasant) and locked the door behind himself before going to collapse on his bed.

The Division discussed a patrol routine in order to find his beloved, assigning partners and positions with a smooth efficiency that had come natural to them only after years of working together, and Tsukishima tried to drown them out.

The shock of having found his Carissime and subsequently losing him once more was beginning to take its toll. The image of him in front of the museum had yet to leave Tsukishima’s mind, and he clung to it, tried to memorize every tiny detail he could find; the tuft of hair that stood almost straight up off his head, the deep brown of his eyes, darker near the irises and fading to a honey color near the edge, the rumpled appearance of his clothes, like he’d thrown them on in a rush, the gentle curve of his fingers against his notebook, the way he’d looked curiously at Tsukishima, interest in his gaze, before he’d been startled (likely by Tsukishima’s angry reaction to Tanaka) away, shoulders hunched, movements hurried.

It wasn’t enough.

Tsukishima wanted to know everything about the life his Carissime had lived, the hand he’d been dealt. Why was he at the museum, did he enjoy art? Maybe he was in college and had been there for an assignment for an extracurricular class. Did he have a job? Did he live in a dorm on campus with someone else? Maybe he lived with his parents still, or some other family. Did he have siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles? How important were they to him? What were his hobbies, did he read or skate or like to walk the city the way Tsukishima did? Did he still love the night sky and the stars? Did he still marvel at how far away they were and then reach his hand out, fingers spread, to try and touch them?

There were so many unknowns, so many things to discover that it left Tsukishima reeling as he pressed his face into his pillow and tried to breathe deeply.

Was his favorite color still the red of Tsukishima’s wings? Was he enamored with the idea of flight and flying and freedom? Did he still speak with his hands, exaggerating widely, pointing and motioning and making his fingers an essential part of his story? When they got to know each other, would he still comb those fingers through Tsukishima’s hair? Would he tuck his head under Tsukishima’s chin, kiss at his collarbones and relax like being in his arms was the most comfortable place in the universe?

Tsukishima pulled himself from his thoughts reluctantly. There was no sense in daydreaming about those kinds of things, he’d simply have to wait until his Carissime was found and he could finally find the answers in person. Until then it was best not to let himself wander too much.

_“Are you listening, Tsukishima?”_ Suga’s soft question brought him the rest of the way to earth and he sighed, rolling over in his bed.

_Yeah, what’s up?_ He realized belatedly that his mind was near silent. The other angels must have left when he wasn’t paying attention and either Suga was the only one left or anyone else was being extremely quiet (unlikely).

_“We’ve got everything sorted out. The first patrol, Kageyama and Hinata, are out searching right now. They’ll be relieved in six hours and we won’t stop looking until he’s found.”_ Suga paused for a moment, silence hanging between them before he asked tentatively, _“Are you okay?”_

At first Tsukishima considered simply brushing him off but in the end he sighed and spoke out loud, pulling one arm over his eyes to block out the light of the setting sun outside his window.

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Suga hummed quietly. _“It had to have been quite the shock seeing him again after all these years.”_

_It shouldn’t be, I’ve spent them all looking for him._

_“That doesn’t change the fact that it was startling for you.”_

_I guess,_ he relented, eyes slipping shut.

_“You trust us, don’t you? To find him?”_ He didn’t sound like he was truly asking, but more like he was gently trying to remind Tsukishima that he and all the other angels were on his side. Tsukishima wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or not.

_I do._

_“Good. Go to sleep now, Tsukishima. We’ll take care of this.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic was actually born from a conversation I had with a friend where I remembered my mother telling me when I was young that freckles are angel kisses. Thus, angel!Tsukki was created.


	5. The Lucky One (Chapter Four)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lucky One by Au Revoir Simone
> 
>  
> 
> _A dream of togetherness, turned into a brighter mess, a faint sign my spoken best now, now_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slowly loosing my momentum on this story and I apologize greatly. Expect weekly updates or less from here on out, but I promise I won't give it up entirely.

Tsukishima awoke with a pounding headache to the sound of his alarm clock screeching. With difficulty, he managed to roll over and slap it a few times until it shut up, and then pulled the plug out of the wall for good measure. It was his day off after all, and even without the pounding behind his eyes there was no way in hell he was going to get up at seven in the morning.

 _Wake me up at eleven,_ he thought blearily to whatever angel happened to be around just then. They never left him anyways, might as well make good use of them.

He fell unconscious almost immediately after, but his sleep was restless and disturbed. By the time nine thirty rolled around, his blankets were a knot around his body and he’d given up on finding anything resembling peace. The painful staccato beat in his head had faded a bit, but was not gone entirely, and after a few minutes of quiet self pity, Tsukishima pulled himself up and went to turn on the shower.

 Normally on his days off, he allowed himself to sleep in a couple of hours and then spent the rest of his morning downstairs in his apartment complex’s laundry room. Since he didn’t have a whole lot of possessions, he cleaned the apartment while his clothes washed and dried. Following that, he did any other domestic chores that needed to be done, such as paying bills or going shopping. It was dull work but living as a human meant it was all necessary. With it out of the way however, he was free to roam the city until dark as per usual, and then he was back to work the next day. (His schedule never changed; three days on, one day off).

Today, however, Tsukishima knew he wouldn’t be able to follow his regular routine. After seeing his Carissime he was restless, he needed to do something, to move, even with the knowledge that there were angels out doing all the dirty work for him. Speaking of which…

 _Anyone there?_ he asked. It had been suspiciously quiet ever since he’d woken up.

 _“Just me,”_ Shimizu answered, voice soft as if she knew Tsukishima still felt like his skull might be trying to split itself open. That explained why it had been quiet at least.

Checking to make sure the shower had heated, Tsukishima stripped away yesterday’s clothes and then slipped under the spray with a small sigh. His own nudity in front of the Division had stopped bothering him ages ago. _Who’s patrolling?_

 _“Right now it’s Daichi and Noya.”_ She was silent a beat and then, _“Are you going to go out as well?”_

 _Yeah._ The hot water felt insanely good against his skin, and Tsukishima allowed himself the pleasure of simply standing under it, head bent, unmoving as he allowed the pressure and heat to slowly unknot the muscles in his shoulders and back. In increments, his headache started to fade as well.

Shimizu gave a small humming noise. _“May I make a suggestion then?”_ she asked.

 _Knock yourself out,_ was his response.

_“Go take a look around the art museum he was at yesterday. When I was on patrol I found something I think you’d like to see.”_

Reaching for the shampoo, Tsukishima lathered up his hair and then rinsed, enjoying the water pressure on his head. He didn’t answer right away, but the conversation was a soft, comfortable one, with gentle tones, and the quiet between them didn’t feel awkward at all. That was probably one of his favorite things about Shimizu, her ability to accept silence as easily as she accepted anything else. It was something he wished angels like Noya and Tanaka could learn. Somehow it just didn’t fit them though.

 _I guess it couldn’t hurt to take a look around,_ he mused after conditioning his hair. _I’d like to learn a little about his interests anyway._

Shimizu didn’t respond to that, and Tsukishima finished his shower in peace, toweling himself off in the bathroom before wandering back into his bedroom to find clothes. He really should do laundry today…but if he’d been restless before, he was downright fidgety now that he had a destination in mind, and there was no way in hell he was going to be able to sit around and clean. So he threw on a fairly clean pair of black jeans and a sweater and was headed out the door before he could think too hard about the responsibilities left untaken care of.

 _“Don’t forget to eat,”_ Shimizu reminded him gently though, and he had to backtrack to make a couple pieces of toast. Honestly bread was just about all he had in his kitchen, minus some fuzzy cheese in the fridge and a couple cans of Chef Boyardee in the cupboard. Maybe he’d stop by the supermarket on his way home.

 _Satisfied?_ he shot back with a mouthful of stale, cooked bread, and Shimizu’s _“Yes,”_ was just smug enough to make him smirk as he locked his front door behind himself.

Rush hour had passed, and the streets bore only light foot traffic; women bundled in coats and scarves, men with cigarettes between their lips with billowing smoke that looked like dragon’s breath, children with their arms wrapped tight around themselves, dancing around the legs of their parents to keep warm. They hadn’t yet had their first snow of winter, which was unusual this far into the year, but Tsukishima had no doubt that it’d be coming soon and with a vengeance.

The museum was only a fifteen minute walk from his apartment, but it took Tsukishima twice as long when an omen appeared over a young boy of only eight. He ended up having to follow the child, his three siblings and their harried looking mother to a nearby park, and then dive under the jungle gym to catch the boy from landing head first onto hard packed wood chips. It resulted in scraped knees, a rip in his jeans, and a weeping, grateful mom whose attempts to kiss his cheeks were extremely difficult to dodge.

 _“You’re quite talented at avoiding physical contact, aren’t you?”_ Shimizu commented as he left the park, walking quickly to make up for the time he’d lost.

_Yes, yes I am. Got a problem with it?_

She laughed gently, but it didn’t feel patronizing and Tsukishima actually felt himself relax a bit at the sound. _“Of course not, I was just making an observation.”_

When he got to the museum he found it was pleasantly empty, baring a single bored looking woman selling tickets at the front booth. It was warmer than the outside world but still fairly cold, with cool grey walls, white tiled floors, and the faint scent of something old. Paintings lined the walls, separated into different rooms and hallways by content, age, and creator. As well, sculptures littered the walkways and took up small alcoves, stone and marble and bronze and mixtures thereof.

Honestly it was all a little surreal, seeing these works displayed, little plaques displaying information about the painters, their other work and their lives. As an angel, Tsukishima had been fascinated by humans with artistic pursuits, the ways they lived, the things that inspired them, and of course what they created. He’d watched a fair number of these very same paintings and sculptures, years upon years ago, come to life beneath wonderful, skilled hands, and now here they were hung upon the walls of a tiny Boston museum, receiving only the attention of him, bored hipsters, and college students with extra circular classes to fill. And his Carissime.

It hit him again, in a room full of landscapes, that his Carissime had been here. Had possibly stood in this exact same spot and admired the brush strokes on the clouds in this piece, or the waving, rippling motion effect of the grass in that piece. Had he liked the landscapes, or did he enjoy the more abstract artwork more? What about the ones that told stories, the ones alive with color and movement? Did he like art at all, or had he been bored, simply trying to get the visit out of the way. Maybe he’d been curious but had decided museums and art in general just weren’t interesting enough for him.

In total, it only took an hour and a half to wander through the entire museum, steps echoing around him in the silence as he moved quietly from one piece of art to the next, remembering bits and pieces about how and when it had been made, who’d made it. Tsukishima was just getting ready to leave when he noticed a small side room off the lobby that he’d missed before, with a small sign hung over it that read “Up and Coming Artists Event”.

The dates listed below indicated that today was the last day of the event. Maybe it was something in here that Shimizu had thought important? Though the rest of the museum had been interesting and had brought back memories of his younger angel days, nothing in particular had stood out to him and Shimizu had seemed certain when she said there was something he’d want to see.

The first few feet of the room was dedicated to letters written from people participating in the event, describing the museum's funding towards aspiring artists and its connection with several local colleges. The art work itself was displayed beyond that, paintings mainly, mostly acrylics of various content with a few water colors and oils thrown in for good measure. It was apparent that many of the artists were young and still developing their styles, but amongst the average there were a few that stood out more than the rest.

And then Tsukishima came across it.

The canvas was huge, at three feet tall and five wide it dominated the smaller works around it. A setting sun streaked the background with vibrant oranges and yellows and pinks, and yet it all paled in a blur around the focus of the painting. A figure, back turned to the viewer, appeared to be watching the sunset, the light creating a soft halo around his body. The curve of his waist disappeared beneath the edge of the canvas, but the expanses of pale, smooth skin cast in shadow implied nudity. A tumble of blonde hair, a mixture of golden and flaxen locks, was tied in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, several thick strands swinging freely in an invisible breeze. By far though, what drew the attention most was the pair of dazzling red wings that sprouted just below the man’s shoulder blades. They were held out, as if he were thinking about flying or perhaps simply trying to feel the wind brush through his feathers, the color vibrant, the detail exact. The canvas couldn’t contain their entire length, just like it couldn’t contain the man in his entirety either, leaving the idea that he was a mystery, too unknown to be captured. But the brushstrokes and exactness, the faint speckling of darker red against the feathers, spoke of familiarity.

It was Tsukishima.

He was the man in the painting, in his angelic form, his hair longer and glossier, skin fairer, powerful.  

 _That’s me,_ he thought dumbly, and it was only when Shimizu responded that he realized he’d projected it.

_“It is.”_

His eyes sought out the plaque beneath the painting, but it simply read _Anonymous_ in innocuous, etched letters. It didn’t matter. He knew who had painted this.

_He remembers me, my Carissime remembers._

_“Not necessarily,”_ Shimizu intoned, sounding vaguely apologetic. _“He didn’t recognize you the other day did he? I think he has the ability to remember though, if you remind him.”_

Tsukishima could feel his body shaking but was only vaguely aware of it. This could mean so much, could open so many doors for both him and his beloved if he could release the memories of their time together from whatever box they'd been tucked away into upon birth.

“It’s more than enough,” he murmured to the empty gallery and then turned away to leave the museum, soft brushstrokes and acrylic paint burned into his mind.

Shimizu left to attend to her duties on Tsukishima’s walk to the supermarket, and Hinata joined him as he started his shopping. The orange haired angel spoke animatedly, and Tsukishima was in such a good mood he didn’t even snark in response, just listened quietly and offered his opinion the few times that it was asked.

That night, after eating an extremely rare home cooked dinner, he fell asleep almost immediately. In his dreams he was painted to life before a sunset, and when he turned around, dark brown eyes and warm skin met him, a brush held in a delicate hand. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, or drop by my [tumblr](http://sagesroad.tumblr.com/).


	6. Screen (Chapter Five)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Screen by Twenty One Pilots
> 
>  
> 
> _I do not know why I would go in front of you and hide my soul, cause you're the only one who knows it, yeah you're the only one who knows it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ironically enough, a good portion of this chapter takes place in the Dog Leg Coffeehouse, and that's where I wrote it. It's a cute little place, but the one in the story is bigger and definitely busier.

Work was considerably difficult with Hinata and Tanaka chattering in Tsukishima’s ears.

They hadn’t really stopped since early that morning when he’d woken up, starting with just idle conversation and random chit chat that Tsukishima was able to tune out rather easily as he went about his business. But then, around noon or so, they started asking him about the painting he’d seen yesterday, and the implications it could hold.

 _“He totally remembers!”_ Hinata insisted, voice pitched far too high for Tsukishima’s liking. He said nothing and continued to examine the delivery of cds that had just arrived.

 _“Not at all!”_ Tanaka countered. _“If he did, then why didn’t he throw himself at Tsukishima as soon as he saw him? He would have been all muwah muwah!”_ Hinata made gagging noises while Tanaka made sloppy smooching ones, and Tsukishima considered faking an upset stomach simply so he could go somewhere private and berate the shit out of both of them.

When they’d settled down a bit and the ridiculous sounds had abated, Hinata asked, _“Well then how do you explain the painting?”_

_“Easy! Most souls remember a little bit of their time in Heaven. Not a lot about it, but enough. Besides I’d say Tsukishima was probably influential enough that he wouldn’t forget him entirely.”_

_“Awww!”_ Hinata cooed. _“That’s so sweet!”_

 _Would you two kindly shut the fuck up?_ Tsukishima snapped, slamming his clipboard a little too hard on the counter. They giggled but fell silent. Fucking children.

Akiteru sent Tsukishima home from work early after seeing his little violent display and he left feeling frazzled but grateful. He considered maybe joining whatever patrol was out searching for his Carissime, but decided he could really use a nap instead, yelling at Tanaka and Hinata on his walk home was exhausting work.

In his apartment he changed into pajamas, collapsed in his bed, and didn’t move until Yachi screamed so loud in his mind that he physically jerked awake, panic the first thing on his mind.

_What!? What is it?_

_“Tsukishima we found him_!” Yachi’s voice was an excited squeal the likes of which would have normally annoyed the blonde, but the sudden burst of emotions her words brought, all of which drowned out his initial panic, far outweighed any irritation he had with the small angel.

_Where is he?_

_“Okay so you know that tiny coffee house you always go to? He’s sitting at a table reading a book. I don’t know how long he’s going to be there though, so I’d hurry if I were you.”_

Honestly Tsukishima didn’t need to be told twice; before she’d even finished speaking he was already tripping out of his pajamas and into the closest clothes he could find, running his fingers through his hair hurriedly and dashing into his bathroom to throw on deodorant.

 _“Wait!”_ Noya, who must have traded places with Hinata and Tanaka at some point, protested just as he reached for his ratty old sneakers.

_What, did he move?_

_“No, Tsukishima, seriously look at what you have on.”_ His voice was filled with fond exasperation and Tsukishima was struck with the urge to recoil. Then what Noya had said sunk in a little and he glanced down at his holey jeans and battered band tee.  _“This is the love of your life we’re talking about here. You can’t go meeting him looking like that!”_

 _“He has a point!”_ Yachi chirped. _“Hold on I’ll see if anyone else is free and we’ll help you pick out something better.”_

Tsukishima didn’t really want anyone else in his head at the moment, not when his stomach was twisting with nerves and excitement the way it was, and especially not for something as trivial as picking out an outfit (what was he, a twelve year old girl?) but neither Yachi nor Noya heeded his protests. Luckily for him Asahi and Kageyama were the only other angels available. Four was a little much but certainly more comfortable than having the entire Division there, and knowing them all as well as he did he was positive they all would have showed up if they could.

 _“Okay, go open that hell hole you call a closet and let’s get to work,”_ Noya demanded once everyone was on the same page.

 _Don’t tell me what to do,_ Tsukishima grumbled but did as he was told anyways. In all honesty his closet was kind of a hell hole; he did laundry on his days off but never really bothered with folding any of it since he didn’t have a dresser. There were a few stray hangers scattered around but he didn’t really bother with those either, so clean clothes were thrown to the left and dirty to the right.

 _“What about the blue polo you have, that’s pretty nice,”_ Asahi spoke up.

 _“Blue’s not a good color on him,”_ Kageyama objected.

 _“A polo’s too formal anyways,”_ said Yachi and Tsukishima resisted the urge to grind his teeth together.

_Get a move on, I don’t have all day here._

_“Now, now,”_ Noya cooed, and Tsukishima could just picture the ridiculous face he had to be making. _“Don’t get impatient on us, dearest Tsukishima. Beauty takes time after all!”_

 _“Pick up those jeans there off to the side,”_ Yachi commanded, _“no not those, to the left, no my left, yeah the dark ones.”_

Grabbing the pants she’d indicated, admittedly nicer than the ones he was wearing, Tsukishima threw them over one arm and then gestured to the heap of clothing before him. “Anything else?”

 _“Do you have any button downs?”_ Kageyama asked.

Noya scoffed, _“Of course he does, he’s a hipster!”_

_Does it even matter? I’m going to be wearing a jacket._

_“It does,”_ Yachi insisted.

 _“I think I see one there near the middle, looks like a flannel.”_  The next few minutes was Asahi trying to direct him towards said flannel, Tsukishima getting frustrated and throwing clothes left and right, ultimately finding the shirt and then changing into the outfit the angels had picked for him.

 _There,_ he sighed as he buttoned the last button, _am I good now?_

 _“Perfect!”_ sang Yachi.

 _Good._ Tsukishima pulled on his shoes and coat hurriedly, heading for his front door with quick strides. _Now get the hell out._

Startled, Kageyama choked out an, _“Excuse me?”_

Though he had to admit, he was feeling considerably calmer now after having to put up with the angels’ ridiculousness, that didn’t really mean Tsukishima wanted them around for his first meeting with his Carissime. It was important, he didn’t need their commentary or input distracting him. Not to mention the fact that it was a fairly private matter, which he stated blandly as he locked his front door and headed down the stairs.

It was mid-afternoon and the day was overcast, threatening rain at any moment. A brisk wind, stronger than normal, played with the ends of Tsukishima’s hair and the tail of his coat, making it flare away from his body as he walked.

Noya sighed over dramatically. _“Tsukishima,”_ he said, tone slow as if speaking to a child. _“I have seen you naked more times than I ever care to admit. You have no privacy.”_

And really Tsukishima couldn’t help bristling at that, shoving his hands into his pockets angrily. _And whose fault is that exactly? Just give me an hour or two, I’ll be fine by myself._

 _“It’s not a matter of being fine or not,”_ Yachi cut in. _“We just want to make sure everything goes smoothly for you.”_

 _“Kageyama and I can leave if it’ll make you more comfortable?”_ Asahi, good natured as ever, offered. There was a grunt of agreement from Kageyama.

Almost begrudgingly, Tsukishima said, _I’d appreciate that,_ just as the Dog Leg Coffeehouse came into view down the road and his stomach erupted into another flurry.

 _“He’s sitting off to the left,”_ Yachi murmured, voice low like she knew Tsukishima was holding his breath as he reached for the front door.

The moment he stepped foot into the coffee shop, it didn’t matter that he was holding his breath because it froze in his lungs, unable to escape. The small stone building smelled strongly of coffee beans and warm pastries, a heady scent that he had come to associate with cool, early mornings, and late night wanderings.

His Carissime was seated, as Yachi had told him, off to the left in one of the shop’s little tables with heavy wooden chairs, a cup and an empty plate before him, a thick book in his hands. His head was bent, hair falling into his face, and as Tsukishima watched, he absently brushed it back, trying to tuck the errant strands behind his ear. The attempt was only mildly successful and the hair fell back across his eyes, but he seemed absorbed and did not notice, his lips occasionally forming the words on the page and his gaze roaming, flicking, intent on the story playing out in front of him. He was beautiful and, Tsukishima realized, the seat across from his was open.

 _Shit,_ he thought, finally moving inside the store and towards the counter. _What do I do?_

 _“Talk to him, obviously!”_ was Yachi’s response.

 _“Ask him out,”_ said Noya.

Tsukishima had to hold in his sigh. _Neither of you are helpful, please go away._

In an effort to not continue staring, he placed an order with the barista who was working and stood awkwardly off to the side to wait for it. Mentally he tried to prepare a battle plan, a pick up line, a conversation starter, _something_ to get the ball rolling. But honestly he’d never really had to do this before, when he’d met his Carissime before they had led the conversation happily. Maybe it would be the same now?

 _“Ask him about the book he’s reading,”_ Yachi chirped as the barista handed him his drink. _“Maybe you’ve read it before, then you can talk about it!”_

 _“Boring,”_ Noya sang. Tsukishima tried not to grit his teeth and pushed the nauseous feeling in his stomach down as he turned towards the small table. _“How’s he supposed to know you’re interested if you just talk about books? You gotta ask him out. Hit on him or something.”_

Ignoring them both as best he could, Tsukishima approached the table and then stood there awkwardly for a minute while waiting to be noticed. From this angle he couldn’t see his Carissime’s face but he could see how his hair just barely curled at the tips, and a sliver of exposed flesh on the back of his neck that left Tsukishima a little weak-kneed.

When it became obvious that he _wasn’t_ going to be noticed, he set his cup down on the table (what did he even order? He had no clue) and cleared his throat loudly.

That got his Carissime’s attention and he looked up, blinking owlishly at Tsukishima, and this close the angel swore he could count every single one of those freckles.

“Can I help you?” he asked when Tsukishima just continued to stare, his voice inquiring but soft and maybe a little hesitant. Nervous. Fuck that was cute.

Tsukishima opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a little, “ah” so he snapped it closed again. In his mind Noya laughed far too loudly, and a blush spread across the blonde’s cheeks as he tried to clear his throat.

“Sorry,” he coughed, suddenly finding he couldn’t quite meet his Carissime’s eyes, “but I was uh, wondering if…” Pausing he kind of gestured towards the empty chair across from the man and cleared his throat again.

“Oh!” his Carissime said, looking vaguely startled, and then glancing around the shop as if to check to see if all the other tables were full. They weren’t. Confusion pulled across his features, and something like wariness, but he still said, “Ah, yeah sure that’s fine.”

 _“Good job!”_ Yachi cheered as Tsukishima pulled the chair out and sat down, hands moving to cup his still warm coffee.

The both sat there a minute, neither openly watching the other but taking glances from the corners of their eyes, until finally Tsukishima broke the silence with, “So, what’s your name?”

“Yamaguchi,” his Carissime said, thin fingers playing absently with the pages of his book. “I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Tsukishima took a deep breath to steady himself, and Noya laughed again. _“Dude, you are so in love it’s not even funny.”_

_Yeah, I know._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the lovely Alexis who betas for me, and to Nico who always manages to give me inspiration.


	7. Black and Gold (Chapter Six)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black and Gold by Ellie Goulding 
> 
>  
> 
> _'Cause if you're not really here, then I don't want to be either. I want be next to you, black and gold, black and gold, black and gold._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laughs nervously it's been almost three weeks I'm really sorry. I finally finished this chapter though, the much awaited first contact between Yama and Tsukki! I hope you enjoy uwu
> 
> On another note, next chapter will hopefully be from Yama's pov. I'm going to start it right after I post this so hopefully it'll also get finished a lot faster.

“Yamaguchi,” his Carissime said, thin fingers playing absently with the pages of his book. “I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

It took several moments for Tsukishima to remember that he should probably respond with his own name, mainly because he was so busy trying to calm the frantic pounding of his heart and tune out Noya’s obnoxious giggling.

“Tsukishima Kei,” he said, stumbling awkwardly into the silence that had surrounded them. At least his Carissime, Yamaguchi, was openly watching him now with curious but wary brown eyes.

“Nice to meet you?” It sounded more like a question, as if he wasn’t really sure if meeting Tsukishima was in fact, a nice thing, and his gaze flickered from the blonde down to his book and back again, probably debating if continuing his reading would be seen as rude or not.

There were definitely going to be some differences here between the man before Tsukishima and the soul he had originally fallen in love with, that much was obvious. For one thing Yamaguchi was cautious, withdrawn, in a way his Carissime had never been before. A look of interest would appear across his features as he watched Tsukishima, but it was almost instantly shadowed by something anxious and worried. That was okay though, Tsukishima had been expecting differences. Nobody lived a life on earth without changing just a little. (Hell even he’d changed a bit during these twenty four years, though the fact that he was a cosmic celestial being and not an actual soul had helped to keep him steady, he still had a far greater appreciation for humans and their struggles than he ever did before.)

Now if only he could think of a conversation topic.

_“You’re sinking, Tsukishima!”_ Yachi warned. _“Ask him something quick! Before he thinks you’re creepy and gets up and leaves.”_

“Have we…met before?” Yamaguchi asked, successfully cutting Tsukishima off from saying something undoubtedly stupid. The question caught him by surprise and his mouth slammed closed as he tried to think of how to answer that.

_I don’t want to lie to him but…I can’t tell him, can I?_

_“What, that you’re an angel and twenty five years ago he was a soul in heaven and you were both madly in love with each other and now you’re here to find him again?”_ Noya snorted. _“Yeah I’m sure that’ll blow over real well.”_

_Point taken,_ Tsukishima mentally muttered. _But I still don’t want to lie._

“I think I saw you the other day outside the art museum.”

Instantly Yamaguchi’s face colored a dusty pink under his naturally dark skin, making his freckles stand out in stark contrast, and Tsukishima thought he felt his heart skip a beat. His Carissime dropped his gaze down to his lap, bangs falling to hide his eyes as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Ah,” he said, voice lower, “yeah I think I remember you.”

What was with that reaction? Maybe he was embarrassed to be at the museum? Did it have something to do with his painting? It’s not like he knew that Tsukishima knew it was his.

_“Well it did say Anonymous,”_ Yachi mused, and apparently he’d been broadcasting his thoughts without meaning to, shit. _“He might be embarrassed that it was presented? He doesn’t want anyone to know it was his, so being caught at the museum could seem incriminating for him.”_

_But why not? It was so beautiful ._

Yachi gave the mental equivalent of a shrug without actually saying anything and Tsukishima figured he better move this conversation along as quickly as possible.

“So do you like art then?”

Yamaguchi’s head came up, blinking quickly, and some of the color faded from his face as he relaxed a bit.

_What was he so afraid of?_

“I do, but I don’t go very often,” he admitted, “the ticket prices are a little high to be going more than once a month or so.”

Tsukishima found a small laugh somewhere in his throat, and at first Yamaguchi looked startled by it, but the shy smile he offered back was more than worth the effort. “I think that’s still more often than most people go.”

“Yeah, probably,” Yamaguchi said, smiling down into his lap as he closed his book and set it on the table.

_“Oh!”_ Yachi squealed, _“That’s a good sign, you’re more interesting than whatever he was reading!”_

“What about you then, do you like art? If I remember correctly you weren’t actually going to the museum, just waiting on the bench outside.”

_He remembers me!_ Tsukishima cheered inwardly and Noya snorted loudly.

_“Obviously. He asked if you’d met before.”_

_Nobody asked you, Noya,_ he snapped mentally, and then outwardly, schooling his voice into something pleasant rather than the harsh tone he’d used for his fellow angel, “I do. I wasn’t going to the museum right then but I did go yesterday.”

Yamaguchi perked up visibly. “Did you see that abstract piece by Man Ray?” 

“Yes, but I prefer his photography to his painting,” Tsukishima responded, finding himself on familiar ground for once in this conversation and incredibly grateful for it. Not that he got to discuss his appreciate for art often, but he was fairly knowledgeable if he did say so himself. “They had a print of The Violin of Ingres hidden away in the back. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Really? His photography is nice, but I really love his paintings. He uses such dark, gritty colors, when he uses them at all that is. Have you seen any of his sculptures?”

And that’s how they dissolved into deep discussion, Ray, Picasso, van Gogh, Hone, Calder, Minelli, Huston, the names falling from their lips easily as they wound their way through different movements and styles and their favorites of each. From there they moved into music and different genres, working their way towards more modern artists and finding that their tastes were fairly similar.

Yamaguchi seemed to brighten the longer it went on, his face and body coming alive with movement, hands alive in the air, and it was so achingly, hauntingly familiar that Tsukishima could feel his heart swelling. It was a sight he was worried he’d never see again. All Yamaguchi had needed was a little encouragement and time to open up, and he was once again the Carissime Tsukishima had known and loved.

For the most part Noya and Yachi had fallen silent after a while, though he didn’t know whether it was because they couldn’t follow Yamaguchi and Tsukishima’s technical art talk, or whether they were actually just trying to give Tsukishima some privacy for once in his life (and he was willing to put money on the first and not the second). But honestly, they probably could have prattled on and on and on and Tsukishima wouldn’t have noticed. He was so entirely ensnared by the man in front of him, blind and deaf to the rest of the world around him. Even the drink he’d bought, which he never did figure out what it was, simply went cold on the table before him, forgotten and completely untouched.

It came as a surprise then, when Yachi’s voice filtered through his head, quiet and apologetic but a touch concerned.

_“Tsukishima,”_ she said urgently, _“Tsukishima! Look out the window.”_

Yamaguchi was in the middle of a long spiel about cinematography and it was almost physically painful for Tsukishima to tear his eyes away from his motioning hands and bright brown eyes.  Once his gaze was fixed on the window just over his Carissime’s shoulder however, he could see clearly why Yachi had gotten his attention.

Or rather, he could _feel_ it.

A teenager entered his peripheral, walking on the other side of the street with a hoodie too big for him hanging off his shoulders and shoving a pretzel enthusiastically into his mouth. Immediately Tsukishima’s gut was twisting and turning on itself, his throat tight as if he might puke any second. An Omen.

“Tsukishima?” Yamaguchi asked lightly, and the blonde snapped his attention back to his Carissime. The man’s brow was knitted and he looked concerned, reaching out to gently touch Tsukishima’s hand on the table top. “Are you okay? You look kind of pale.” His fingers were soft and warm and far, far too distracting right now.

Honestly Tsukishima was desperate for that small amount of contact at the moment, his skin was burning where Yamaguchi touched him and just that easy press of fingertips against the back of his hand was making his head spin a little.

But he had a job to do.

He didn’t realize his gaze had strayed back to the teenager across the street until Yamaguchi turned to look over his shoulder. His head snapped back around almost immediately, eyes wide, lips parted as he stumbled over his whispered words.

“You can see them too?”

Tsukishima didn’t even have time to process _that_ bombshell when Noya was warning, _“Tsukishima he’s turning the corner you’re going to lose him!”_

The blonde stood quickly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor all too loudly and drawing curious eyes to their table. He didn’t pay them any attention though, focused on the disappearing figure of the teenager and the sick rolling of his stomach.

“Don’t leave, I’ll be right back,” he told Yamaguchi quickly, and though his Carissime responded, the question he asked was completely lost on Tsukishima as he was already dashing out the door and into traffic to cross the street.

_“That corner there, that’s where he turned,”_  Yachi directed, and really he already knew that but pointing that out only would have distracted and/or slowed him down, so he dodged a honking taxi and careened around the corner she’d indicated.

And was met with nothing but a fairly empty side street.

_Shit,_ he thought, coming to a screeching halt, _where is he?_

_“Two alleys up on your left!”_ Yachi again, followed by Noya’s, _“Shit something’s happening, I think he’s choking.”_

_Goddammit._

Tsukishima took off at a run again, brushing past the one or two people on the street until he found the alleyway Yachi had been talking about. At first glance it was abandoned except for a rusting fire escape and an overflowing dumpster, but Tsukishima could pick up the sound of muffled movement from within.

He found the teenager hunched on his knees behind the dumpster, hands clawing at his throat and face quickly turning several shades of purple. There was probably a reason he was hiding out in an alley like this and it was probably illegal, but frankly Tsukishima didn’t care. He had a job and a responsibility to take care of.

Wait, what did you do when someone was choking again?

_“Heimlich maneuver!”_ Yachi supplied.

_What the fuck is the Heimlich maneuver?_

_“Grab him from behind and press on his stomach until he vomits up whatever’s stuck in his throat.”_

_That’s disgusting._

Tsukishima pulled the kid up by his armpits though, ignoring his batting hands and strangled cusses, until he could wrap his arms around the teenager’s middle.

_Now what?_

_“Make a fist with one hand and place the other on top of it. Now pound his stomach basically, like you’re giving him CPR.”_

CPR at least, was something Tsukishima was familiar with, from that one time he’d followed a woman with an Omen only to have her collapse from a heart attack. There hadn’t been a whole lot he could do for her, but he’d done CPR until the paramedics had arrived and they’d managed to save her life. Sometimes the Omens weren’t for mere accidents.

Tsukishima did as instructed, and after the third hit the teenager coughed wretchedly, half-chewed pretzel flying from his lips and landing with a splat on the concrete that had the blonde wrinkling his nose. He dropped the kid, who sunk to his knees, still heaving and gasping, and Tsukishima considered simply leaving right then and there. On the one hand that was probably pretty rude, on the other Tsukishima willingly _touched_ the teen, had him pressed all up against his body, and that alone overwrote any rudeness on his part. 

He left without waiting for the kid to recover.

_“I can’t believe you didn’t stay to make sure he was okay,”_ Noya chided, but Tsukishima was turning the corner and narrowing in on the coffee shop. Even through the window he could see that the table he and Yamaguchi had been sitting at was empty but for their dishes. Shit…

Maybe he’d just gone to the restroom?

Tsukishima drew more curious eyes when he re-entered the shop, people probably wandering why he’d dashed off in the first place. They didn’t even register on his radar though, when he caught sight of the napkin left square in the middle of his table, a note written across it hastily.

Picking it up he read the phone number first, and then under it ‘Call Me!!!!’ was printed in large letters and underlined severely, like Yamaguchi wasn’t willing to take no as an option on this.

The last words Tsukishima had heard from him echoed in his head. ‘You can see them too?’

He sighed. _He didn’t give me his number because he was interested, did he?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another note. I know very little about art and everything the two talked about or referenced was googled by me, so there's a possibility it's wrong. Let me know if there are some inaccuracies!


	8. Stutter (Chapter Seven)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stutter by Mariana's Trench
> 
>  
> 
> _I just stutter, stutter, stutter, Di-di-di-di-di-did I?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look an update! Woo hoo~
> 
> Alright first, the URL for my writing blog on tumblr has changed! It's now scribespirare. I've also opened up commissions there, so go take a look at the info and hire me! I'd love to write for any of my readers. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Clouds stretched low over a night sky, the twinkling of stars and a thin, elegant crescent moon shining through the cloud’s soft lacy cover. A field below, the grass short but still moved by an invisible wind, and far in the distance the edges of a barely lit city, awake even in the depth of night.

And still something wasn’t right about it.

Yamaguchi sighed and placed his brush behind his ear so that he could step back and run an appraising eye over the canvas. He couldn’t really put his finger on what was wrong though, even after five minutes of observation. There was just something….missing.

The scene was a familiar one. Not because he’d ever visited the place, in fact he had no idea where or if it actually existed, but because it was one he’d seen in his dreams before. He often painted the things he saw in his dreams, mostly because they were alive and vivid and colorful in a lot of ways that real life just wasn’t.

In the end Yamaguchi sighed and cleaned up, leaving his canvas on its stand while he washed his brushes and palate.  He’d come back to it later and hope that the time away would give him some insight into what needed to be added.

His fingers and palms and even his wrists were speckled with acrylic, and there were several colorful streaks across his face from sticking the brushes behind his ear. Yamaguchi scrubbed them all away carefully and quickly, leaving not a drop or a smear behind. Even in the comfort of his own home he couldn’t risk leaving behind any evidence of his hobby for fear of ridicule, something that had been ingrained into him during high school. But that was a story for a different time.

Yamaguchi hummed tunelessly to himself as he put his supplies away, thoughts inevitably drifting back to the day before. They’d been doing that for a while, and it was only painting, his go-to whenever his thoughts were loud or crowded or just plain unsavory, that had pulled his attention away long enough for him to calm down about it all.

Blonde hair and golden eyes kept coming back to him, caught in late evening light streaming through the coffee shop’s bay windows. Pale and still in a calm, collected way, all except for his mouth which twitched and curved and moved with his emotions, even as he was speaking. He was poignant and intense in a way Yamaguchi was not used to, sincere and distant all in the same breath.  

Interesting and funny and incredibly educated about art, Tsukishima had pulled Yamaguchi in almost as soon as he’d sat down. Once they’d gotten past the awkward introductions and Yamaguchi had fought the panic that somehow, some way he’d known that the angel hanging in the museum was Yamaguchi’s of course. The real kicker was the little thing he’d let slip at the end of their conversation however.

Because all his life Yamaguchi had been the only one to see those things.

They were creepy and disturbing on a number of levels; dark clouds that hovered closely over people and seemed to swallow them until something terrible happened and they died.

The first time Yamaguchi had seen one, it had been on his first grade teacher. She was sweet and called him a good boy when he turned his homework in on time but he started getting scared of her when the black fog had appeared. She’d died a few days later in a car accident with her fiancé, and he’d referred to them ever since as demons. They weren’t alive or sentient but they certainly brought death and destruction with them everywhere they went.

At first Yamaguchi had tried to tell people about the demons, but nobody seemed to believe him. After he’d been shot down the first few times, by parents and classmates alike, he’d realized that he was the only one who could see them. It was a realization that came too late though, and he was labeled crazy by classmates who would continue to torment him long into middle school and high school. It wasn’t the only thing he was ever picked on for, far from it in fact, but it was definitely a favorite and never ceased to make him feel alienated and alone.

Until now that is.

Yamaguchi’s knees trembled and he was forced to place a hand on the wall of his kitchenette as all the thoughts he’d been trying to avoid came rushing forward, making him dizzy with the force of it. His box of supplies, paints and brushes and sponges, clattered loudly in his shaking grasp and he curled his fingers around it tightly, unwilling to drop the precious cargo even as his vision swam.

Tsukishima could see the demons. Yamaguchi wasn’t alone and he wasn’t delusional or hallucinating or just straight up insane. Were there others then, others like them? Maybe it was similar to one of those modern fantasy stories where there was an entire underground civilization of people with abilities and powers, and Yamaguchi was the protagonist who’d somehow been separated from his kin at an early age.

The idea was so ridiculous that, even though he was panicking, Yamaguchi still managed to laugh weakly with what air was left in his lungs. He leaned forward until his forehead hit the wall and he laughed until he was crying, sliding down to rest on his knees because his legs just wouldn’t hold him anymore.

This was crazy. Insane. Asinine. Wasn’t it?

Yamaguchi had long ago tied up the mystery of demons in a neat, spiky little package, and had then proceeded to throw it into the darkest and deepest depths of his mind. It always trudged its way out again whenever he actually saw a demon, but throwing it straight back had practically become second nature. There was no putting it back now, the packaging was completely shredded and its contents, black and sticky and filled with unanswerable questions, were leaking everywhere.

What were the demons? Did Tsukishima know? Why did he chase after one? Did he kill it? Capture it? Tame it? Where they living things or just creepy black clouds? Why is it that most people can’t see them? Are they dangerous? Are there other things like them? Did Tsukishima know Yamaguchi could see them? Is that why he’d sought Yamaguchi out? Was it just coincidence? There’s no way in hell that could be coincidence. Two people who both just happen to be able to see the same exact creepy ass invisible specter type things. Of course that would be just Yamaguchi’s luck. A cute, interesting guy hits on him (at least he’s pretty sure that’s what Tsukishima was trying to do) and instead of going on a date like normal people they get wrapped up in some crazy mystery. God what is his life?

Yamaguchi’s face was wet but he’d stopped crying and the hysterical laughter had died away, leaving only the silence of his tiny urban apartment. It was a little embarrassing to be freaking out so badly, and as the panic began to ebb away a little he was forced to sigh and close his eyes and realize just how much of a mess he was.

From the bedroom, his cell phone rang, a high pitched annoying techno sounding song because nothing else was capable of grabbing Yamaguchi’s attention when he was focused.

Taking a deep breath, Yamaguchi pulled himself away from the wall and wiped his face as he stood. He took a moment to center himself, set his supplies on the counter, and then went to go find his still ringing phone. It was resting on a window sill, right next to his small potted fern, and on its last ring when he flipped the old thing open, not bothering to check the ID since only his work and his parents ever called him.

“Hello?”

The other side of the line was quiet for a beat and then a quiet, almost timid, “Yamaguchi?”

Oh shit.

Honestly he really should have been expecting this. He’d left the guy his number after all. Tongue numb, Yamaguchi responded, “Tsukishima?”

“Ah, yeah good,” the blonde mumbled, and then almost to himself, “I wasn’t sure if the number was real or not.”

Surprised, Yamaguchi asked, “Why wouldn’t it be?” before his nerves could catch up to him and forcefully slam his mouth shut.

A beat of awkward silence and he was reminded of the first few minutes of their conversation, the stumbling and groping and slipping until they’d found common ground. Now it wasn’t so much trying to breech said common ground as it was the large, dark elephant in the room. The demons.

“I thought I might have scared you away,” Tsukishima finally answered.

Sucking in a deep breath, Yamaguchi decided to just go for it. Ignoring the question biting away at him would get him nowhere, and something told him that if he didn’t just dive in Tsukishima would continue to dance just around the edges of something important.

“You can see them too right?” he breathed into the receiver, both hands holding the phone tightly to his ear.

When the line went deadly silent, Yamaguchi’s heart jumped and he stumbled to clarify, words shaky and fast. “I mean because there was one outside the shop yesterday and you were staring right at it and then you jumped up and chased it so I figured you know, that you _had_ to have seen it, it couldn’t just be a coincidence. I’ve never met anyone who can see them before, I’ve never met anyone who even _knew_ about them everyone told me I was crazy but I knew I wasn’t, well I didn’t know I kind of thought I was too for a while, but I mean they’re so real looking and-“

“Yamaguchi!” Tsukishima called firmly, harshly, and then softer, “Calm down.”

Realizing he’d started to shake, Yamaguchi took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “Sorry.”

“No its fine.” The blonde sounded tense, sighing deeply, and Yamaguchi could just picture him ducking his head and running a hand through his hair roughly. Why, he wasn’t sure, he’d never seen Tsukishima when he was upset, they’d only had one (and a half) conversations so far, but the image was just as strong as any fond memory.

“To answer your question, no I can’t see them. But I can…feel them. Look it’s hard to explain, but I used to be able to see them and now I can’t and really you shouldn’t be seeing them at all.”

Yamaguchi blinked. “That actually makes more questions not less.”

There was a vague grumbling, another sigh, the sound of movement like Tsukishima was pacing uncomfortably. “Can we do this in person please?” he groused.

“I have to work this evening.”

“Oh for the love of-“ Tsukishima cut himself off abruptly, murmured something quietly that Yamaguchi couldn’t catch (was he talking to himself?) and then, “yeah that’s fine. How about tomorrow are you free around noon? I work but I have an hour and a half lunch break.”

Honestly Yamaguchi had no clue if he was free tomorrow at noon, but he still said, “Yeah I can do that.”

“Good. Is that coffee shop okay? It’s pretty close to my work so I can walk.”

Still he said, “That’s fine.”

“I’ll see you then.” A click and then the line died and Yamaguchi was left holding his phone with two hands and unsure if he was completely, perfectly, absolutely calm or freaking the fuck out. He breathed out once, twice, closed his phone and then promptly dropped onto his bed.

He could totally do this. It was just a day. Just a day and then hopefully he’d have all the answers he’d ever wanted. So what if it turned his life upside down? This boring thing needed a transformation anyways.

Or so he kept trying to tell himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about this chapter! I know Yamaguchi kind of throws the word 'crazy' around a lot, and I really hope I didn't offend anyone. I normally stay away from that kind of thing, but in this instance Yamaguchi is still feeling the effects of years of bullying. He's built up his confidence a bit but he still has a lot of those insults ringing in his ears, and I just wanted to stay true to how I've shaped his character. 
> 
> Thanks and sorry. uwu


	9. Shiver Shiver (Chapter Eight)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiver Shiver by Walk the Moon
> 
> _You leave these marks up on my neck and its still there, I know but I still check. Thump, thump, the thumping in my chest as I lose the feeling in my fingertips_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this story is my NaNoWriMo project you can expect updates to be a little closer together. I'm supposed to write about 1400 words a day, and so far I'm going pretty strong but we'll see how long that lasts. Wish me luck!

_“You’re in love, you’re in love, you’re in love!”_ Hinata sang the entire walk to Tsukishima’s work, and by the time Tsukishima arrived he felt like stepping in front of a bus just so he could go up to heaven and kick the small angel’s ass in person. And really it was probably Tsukishima’s fault, because a) he’d spent his entire morning day dreaming about his Carissime and how delighted he was to have finally found him, even with the new obstacles that have been thrown at them and b) he’d forgotten to think it all _privately_ and had broadcast the entire thing to Hinata, the only angel currently on duty. He was thankful that at least no one else was present, but would still greatly appreciate the redhead shutting the hell up.

“Woah, someone’s tense this morning,” Akiteru laughed when Tsukishima slammed the door behind himself far more violently than need be.

_Just,_ he sighed mentally as he made his way to the employee’s lounge, _go tell Takeda and Ukai that I’m going to need their help this afternoon._

Yamaguchi was definitely going to ask about Omens, and Tsukishima would like to have the support of his Division leaders for that particular conversation. Humans weren’t meant to know about Omens and angels after all, and they’d be able to help him censor himself just enough to ease Yamaguchi’s fears and questions without saying too much.

“Sorry,” he told Akiteru when he came back out onto the floor, tying his apron loosely behind his back. “Bad morning.”

Akiteru just huffed good naturedly. “Well you can talk to me about if you want, but I highly doubt you’re going to Mr. I-Have-No-Emotions, so if you’re not going to unload your emotional burdens then start ordering the displays again. Some kids came in here yesterday and messed it all up and Saeko couldn’t fix it before closing.”

_“Hah, Mr. I-Have-No-Emotions, that’s a good one,”_ Hinata murmured, and when Tsukishima sent him the mental equivalent of a hard glare he gave a sullen, _“Fine, fine! I’m going to get them, geez.”_

The small angel went silent, apparently keeping his word, and Tsukishima got to work on the displays. Akiteru hummed loudly at the computer behind the front desk, not put out by the blonde not giving a response, and Tsukishima felt himself begin to relax a little. This was going to be a long day. But at least he was going to get to see his Carissime.

An hour or two later Ukai and Takeda arrived, and Tsukishima filled them in on the situation while he helped check out a few customers and Akiteru ordered new stock over the phone. Hinata didn’t come back with them, off to perform duties of his own.

_“I’m glad you called for us,”_ Takeda said warmly once Tsukishima explained himself.

Ukai chimed in with a, _“This is definitely something we should be here for,”_ and Takeda sighed exasperatedly.

_“I meant I was glad he trusted us.”_

The other angel was silent a minute before grumbling, _“Yeah I’m glad you trust us too, kid.”_

Tsukishima considered responding with snark, he really did, but in the end he was silent and the older angels left him peacefully to his work which actually made him _glad_ he didn’t snark because wow being able to concentrate without ten different voices in his ears was a plain miracle.

By the time his lunch break rolled around Tsukishima was feeling pretty damn good, and he actually smiled at Akiteru as he left, bundled up to combat the November chill which had well and truly settled upon the city.

It was a quick walk from work to the Dog Leg. Sure enough, when Tsukishima got close he could spy Yamaguchi standing out front, a jacket too thin for the weather hung over his slender frame and arms wrapped tight around himself while he waited.

“You need a better jacket,” Tsukishima said in lieu of a greeting when he was close enough.

Yamaguchi snorted. “Yes, mother,” he snapped, turning to face Tsukishima before he seemed to realize exactly what he’d said and blushed bright red. “Uh, sorry. You surprised me.”

_Shit, he’s snarky too that’s cute as fuck._

Ukai grumbled something about kids and keeping it in their pants that Tsukishima starkly ignored. He hadn’t meant to broadcast that anyways.  He was getting bad about that, maybe he should take an afternoon to practice it. There were definitely certain thoughts he liked to keep private thank you.

“Don’t worry about it.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the direction he’d just come from. “There’s a little sandwich shop down the road we can go to? I didn’t think about the fact that Dog Leg doesn’t have real food.”

Yamaguchi glanced over his shoulder at the little shop, arms still wrapped tightly around himself and seemed to lament the fact that he’d have to walk a little farther before getting to enjoy the benefits of a heater, but ultimately turned to face Tsukishima and gave a little nod of assent. “Lead the way.”

The restaurant in question was only a few minutes away, definitely larger than Dog Leg and fairly busy during this time of day, but not overly crowded by any means. An orange sign on the door proclaimed Susie’s Salads and Sandwiches, and a small bell rang when Tsukishima pushed it open. Akiteru had treated him here a few times, and he knew the food to be pretty good and the environment just on this side of quiet, perfect for a private conversation.

They claimed a table for two and after a perky waitress took their drink orders, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were left to stare awkwardly at their menus, neither wanting to breech the topic first.

_“At this point you really can’t avoid it,”_ Takeda warned gently, and Ukai gave a grunt of agreement. _“If you’re worried about letting something slip, don’t. We’re here to help guide you, so just take it slowly and we’ll make sure you don’t say anything incriminating.”_

_You’re making it sound like I committed a crime or something,_ Tsukishima groused.

Ukai sighed. _“Kid, we’re just trying to help.”_

“So,” Yamaguchi finally said, breaking the silence hovering ominously over them and startling the blonde from his thoughts. He glanced up from his menu, catching Tsukishima’s eyes and holding them, nervous but determined. “Are you going to start spilling or am I gonna have to pry things out of you question by question?”

Out of the corner of his eye Tsukishima could spot the waitress making her way back towards them with their drinks. “In a minute,” he warned, and then pasted on a smile for the woman as she took their orders and gathered up the menus with a little wink for Yamaguchi that had Tsukishima’s metaphorical hackles raising substantially. Luckily the darker haired man didn’t seem to notice, and as soon as she turned away he was leaning towards Tsukishima eagerly. “Talk.”

He held up his hands plaintively. “Where do I even start? What do you want to know?”

Yamaguchi seemed to consider the question a moment, sipping from the water he’d ordered with a serious expression on his face. “First just tell me what they are,” he finally decided.

_That shouldn’t be a problem, right?_

_“No, go ahead,”_ Ukai said. _“We’ll let you know if you say too much.”_

“Alright,” Tsukishima sighed, mirroring the way Yamaguchi was leaning forward on the table so that he could drop his voice a little lower. Couldn’t risk anyone else overhearing them. “They’re called Omens. And really the name says it all, they’re a warning for when someone is going to die prematurely, whether it’s through their own fault or somebody else’s. It can be anything from having a piano dropped on their head to,” he grimaced, “choking on a soft pretzel.”

Large brown eyes started intensely at him, Yamaguchi taking the information in with quiet wonder. “So they’re not alive then? I’ve been calling them demons all this time.”

Tsukishima snorted in tandem with Ukai. “No, not really. They’re more like a warning than anything else, not really ominous by themselves. It’s what comes after that’s bad.”

“Huh.” Yamaguchi sat back in his seat for a moment, letting that sink in before he was back in Tsukishima’s space, biting his lip rather distractingly. “Okay so, why can’t everyone see them then? Yesterday you said I shouldn’t be able to.”

_“Careful with this one,”_ Takeda warned.

_No shit._

“Really no one should be able to see them,” he said slowly, gaze drifting from Yamaguchi’s plush bottom lip to something much more neutral. Like the table. Yeah, the table was good. “Omens exist on a different plane than we do, a….celestial plane if you will. Unless you’re dead you shouldn’t see them at all.”

Yamaguchi went with the obvious. “So why can I see them then?” Luckily the waitress interrupted them with their meals, giving Tsukishima time to consult his Division leaders because wow he could really fuck that one up if he wasn’t careful.

_What do I tell him?_

Takeda hummed before he spoke, mulling it over. _“Tell him his soul is more awake than it should be. Don’t tell him why, and don’t mention Heaven, keep using that celestial plane bit that’s good.”_

The waitress didn’t linger this time thankfully, and Tsukishima took a few bites of his sandwich (it really was his lunch break and he really was quite hungry) before responding. “Your soul is more awake than it should be.”

Yamaguchi, who didn’t even glance twice at the soup he’d ordered, continued to stare the blonde down. “What does that mean?”

_Fuck._

“It means you have senses awake that shouldn’t be.”

_“Nice save,”_ Ukai murmured, sincere if not still a little gruff.

“So,” Yamaguchi’s brow furrowed and his gaze dropped as he thought, “it’s like a sixth sense thing then, right? But in this case it’s a sense that only dead souls should have.”

It was on the tip of Tsukishima’s tongue to add unborn souls to the list, but he stopped himself. The less information Yamaguchi had right now the better. “Something like that, yeah,” he muttered instead.

Yamaguchi fell silent and Tsukishima finished half his sandwich before those brown eyes rose to meet his again, still wide and curious. And Tsukishima knew. He just knew what was going to come next. Yamaguchi would ask ‘And what about you?’ and he’d have to start lying out the ass to keep the truth about angels out of his Carissime’s grasp. He didn’t want to lie about it, because then it’d be harder to tell him the truth later on and he would tell Yamaguchi the truth, but right now it was too soon. If he knew Tsukishima’s identity he’d want to know why he was on earth, why he was seeking Yamaguchi out, and it wouldn’t be long before he connected his ability to see Omens to Tsukishima and started asking more and more questions. Most of all though, Tsukishima couldn’t let him know that they were lovers, because that knowledge would only push Yamaguchi further and further from his reach and he knew it. So it was easier to just clip the whole thing in the bud and prevent the entire thing from spiraling out of control.

“Yamaguchi,” he blurted, effectively cutting the other man off before he could ask anything else, before he could even open his mouth really. “Will you go on a date with me?”

There was a beat of stunned silence, and then Takeda was trying to stifle a small giggle and Ukai was giving a low whistle of appreciate. _“Smooth,”_ he said, voice teasing and light, and Tsukishima watched a blush crawl up Yamaguchi’s neck to settle warmly around his ears and cheeks. _“Smooth.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that my writing blog and info about commissions is [here](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/).


	10. Love They Say (Chapter Nine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love They Say by Teagan and Sara
> 
> _The first time I saw your face, I knew I was meant for you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's kind of a let down after the last. But fear not chapter ten is their first date!

_“Sorry Tsukishima but we have to get going,”_ Takeda apologized, _“but Asahi and Suga just got back from patrol so they’ll be here shortly.”_

And then he and Ukai were gone, leaving Tsukishima to wander his way into work feeling dazed and stupid.

Honestly, of all the ridiculous things that could have popped of out his mouth it had to fucking be ‘will you go on a date with me’. He couldn’t ask about something normal? Something mundane and neutral, hell even the weather would have been better than a _date._

The truth of the matter was that nothing else would have thoroughly distracted Yamaguchi.  Tsukishima could have asked about the weather all damn day and his Carissime would still want to know more about Omens. And he knew that, he really did, but it didn’t make his current position any more desirable than it already was (and really it was about as desirable as having the flu).

“Tsukishima?” Akiteru’s voice managed to startle the blonde enough that he realized he was standing in the entry of the music shop, unmoving, gaze fixed on the ground. He shook himself even as his boss asked, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

When he passed the front desk on his way to the employee lounge though, Akiteru reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Seriously man. You look really pale. Well…paler than usual,” he amended, leaning in close to Tsukishima’s space and not releasing his hold on the blonde. Lips pursed, brow furrowed he stared for several long seconds while Tsukishima attempted to lean away from him and not make eye contact. Finally he pulled back, releasing Tsukishima and giving him a small shove with a loud, “Ah ha! I knew it!”

Despite himself Tsukishima stumbled back, scowling heavily as he snapped, “What?”

“You’re having girl problems!” Akiteru declared, crossing his arms and giving a nod of finality. Not even a second later he seemed to reconsider his statement however, cocking his head to the side as he continued, “or boy problems. Non-binary? Agender? Bigender? I have no idea what genders you prefer help me out here a little.”

Tsukishima felt himself prickle a little, “I’m not,” he started, intending to finish it with ‘having relationship issues’ but at the last second he thought better. He _could_ ask Suga and Asahi for advice when they finally got around to showing up, or he could talk to someone human who probably had way more dating experience than a couple of angels. He sighed. “It’s a guy.”

Akiteru practically squealed, clapping his hands together excitedly. “Saeko and I were having a bet about whether you were aromantic or not. I’m so happy to hear you’re on the dating scene, partially because she owes me twenty bucks now, but mostly because you’re gloomy as hell and could use a little loving.” The wink that followed had Tsukishima seriously regretting ever bringing the topic up in the first place, but there was no stopping it now, not when Akiteru was bright eyed and bushy tailed like a dog caught onto a scent. “So,” he said, drawing the word out with a little wiggle, “tell me all about him!”

Groaning loudly was not, apparently, a sign of refusal for Akiteru, who continued to avidly stare Tsukishima down. How on earth had he ever thought this man would have good, if any at all, dating advice?

“His name is Yamaguchi,” he finally relented, “I had lunch with him today.”

“I knew you looked too happy this morning. You even smiled at me! This guy must be something pretty special.” Akiteru’s smile disappeared under a worried frown. “You came back looking like you’d seen a ghost though. What happened? He didn’t turn you down did you?”

That was the thing. Yamaguchi _hadn’t._

“I uh,” Tsukishima stumbled, throat dry as he tried to get the rest of the words out, “I accidently asked him on a date. And he said yes.”

Akiteru’s eyes narrowed. “Okay one, how do you ask someone out accidentally? And two, how the hell is that a bad thing!? You scored a date!”

Really, it shouldn’t be such a bad thing. It meant his and Yamaguchi’s relationship could start heading in the direction that Tsukishima had wanted it to all along. But…

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” he cried, voice rising in pitch and volume as his worries finally broke forth. “I wanted to take everything slowly, I’m no good at romance or dates or trying to woo someone. I figured if I could just get close to him as a friend first everything else would follow naturally but now I’ve gone and fucked it up and asked him out and I have no idea what to do anymore. Where do I take him? What do I say? I always feel like I’ve got my foot in my mouth around him how the hell am I going to make him love me like I love him?”

Akiteru’s jaw hit the floor somewhere around the second sentence and in the impending silence after Tsukishima’s outburst, he scooped it up and pulled the blonde into a long, uncomfortable hug. Luckily it gave Tsukishima the time he needed to collect himself, push all his anxiety and worries down while he focused on schooling his features into bland distaste.

“Get off,” he finally snapped, pushing on Akiteru’s shoulder, albeit mildly.

His boss pulled back but didn’t let go, hands squeezing Tsukishima’s shoulders resolutely. He looked almost like he might cry, his eyes wet and glistening and lips trembling slightly. At first Tsukishima was a little concerned, but when Akiteru choked out a, “I’m sorry but you just said you’re in love and I’m a little emotional,” he couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a soft scoff.

“I didn’t tell you all of this to have you cry on my shoulder.”

Akiteru took a deep breath and backed off, wiping his eyes against the crook of his elbow repeatedly. “Sorry,” he said, dropping his arm with a sniff. “I know you don’t like to be touched. But this is really big, you know! So what do you need? Something romantic right? I can set up the shop as a small Italian restaurant for a night, got a nice bottle of Chardonnay at home that hasn’t been opened yet. Saeko can play something soft on her acoustic, I’ll be server.”

“No!” Tsukishima honestly couldn’t shut that idea down fast enough. “God no, anything but that.”

_It’ll scare him away for sure._

_“Scare who away?”_ came Suga’s soft voice, followed by a sheepish apology from Asahi. _“Sorry Tsukishima, we got caught up giving report. What’s going on, Akiteru looks like he’s been crying.”_

_I’m trying to get advice from him. Just…don’t ask. You’ll see._

Before Akiteru could look too crestfallen, Tsukishima added a hasty, “But I would appreciate some tips. Maybe a few good places to take him? Nothing too romantic though it’s just a first date.”

_“First date?”_ Suga asked.   _“Oh my god did you finally ask Yamaguchi out? That’s great!”_

_No it’s not,_ he couldn’t help but snap. _Look I have no idea what I’m doing okay? Hence why I’m asking Akiteru of all people for advice._

_“You know you could have just waited for us right?”_ Asahi chimed in. _“Suga and I are both dating someone. We have experience.”_

Please. Like anyone in the Division didn’t know who everyone else was dating.

_Yes but neither of you have experience dating a human. And on Earth to boot. I figured Akiteru had a little more merit this time around._

_“I guess I can see that,”_ Suga relented and Tsukishima tried not to roll his eyes at the mock hurt in his voice.

“Well,” Akiteru said, drawing Tsukishima from his head and reminding him that oh yeah there was another conversation going on out here. Right, rule number one about juggling real life people and angels, don’t let the angels’ ridiculousness distract you because then you look like a freak to said real life people. Or at the very least you miss something important that they’ve said.

“You could always do something classic like dinner and a movie.”

Tsukishima couldn’t help wrinkling his nose a little at that. “Too cliché. Also I’d like to be able to actually talk to him.” Well…so long as he didn’t try to bring up Omens again. Maybe a movie wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“There’s the zoo,” Akiteru continued, “ice skating, museums, planetarium, the theater. Hell you can even do stuff at home too, a home cooked dinner or watching movies together on the couch. Does any of that sound like something your bae would be interested in?”

The planetarium didn’t sound bad, but if Tsukishima was going to show Yamaguchi the stars he’d want to be able to provide his own commentary, not be forced to listen to some announcer’s. Anything home related was out, his apartment was in no shape to host a very important first date, and none of the other listed things caught his attention as something Yamaguchi would like. Well, maybe ice skating but Tsukishima really didn’t want to give that a try thanks. There was no way to look dignified when busting your ass.

He sighed, “Got anything else?”

Akiteru threw up his hands. “Man you gotta help me out here! What does he like, what are his interests? You gotta tailor make this stuff sometimes.”

“Art,” the blonde answered immediately, and then paused to consider the question fully. Had to think about the things that Yamaguchi had shown interest in so far, not the stuff that his Carissime had liked from before. You never knew what could change in a person. “He likes art and reading and music and quieter things, not a big fan of large crowds or loud people. I think he likes coffee too, and hot tea but not the cold kind, and sweet things. Does that help?”

His boss was silent a moment, appraising. “I think I know just the thing!” and with that he turned on his heel and disappeared into a spare side room that he’d turned into his personal office. (It was rarely used and contained enough dust to give someone an aneurysm from sneezing too much so Tsukishima steered clear of it as best he could.)

Akiteru reappeared with a perfectly dustless brochure however, and stuck it proudly under Tsukishima’s nose. “It’s perfect! I’m sure he’ll love it, and hell I’ll even buy your tickets.”

The page was a soft green and displayed several pictures of flowering hedges and tall stone artwork. ‘Sculpture Garden’ it declared, ‘November only at the Boston Nature Center’. There were dates and times listed as well mentions of a small outdoor café that had been set up near the center of the garden and Tsukishima realized that for once in Akiteru’s life he was absolutely right. This _was_ perfect.

And then he saw the price of the tickets, down near the bottom of the page and written in tiny font as if maybe the designer had hoped keeping it small might cover up just how large the amount was. Tsukishima cringed anyways.

“You sure about that?” he asked his boss, handing the paper back and motioning towards the listing. “Tickets are thirty bucks a piece.”

Akiteru shrugged. “Anything for you and your happiness,” and no that did not make Tsukishima just a little bit warmer, his cheeks heating in a blush as Suga made a soft cooing noise and Asahi gave a breathless ‘awww!’.

To regain some of his lost dignity Tsukishima responded with a low grumble that may or may not have been “Thank you,” and finally moved away from his boss and into the employee lounge. They had a store to run after all, couldn’t stand around telling sob stories all day long.


	11. Peach (Chapter Ten)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peach by The Front Bottoms
> 
> _You are my peach, you are my plum, you are my earth, you are my sun. All of your fingers, all of your toes, the back of you head the tip of your nose, and you are the reason I am smiling when there's nothing to smile about._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have cried small happy tears while writing this chapter, it's just that fucking cute. 
> 
> In other news, if anyone was wondering if the rating was ever going to change, it is. Trust me. If you've read any of my other work you'll know I'm a big fan of the sexy times. So just hold on till chapter 16, that'll be when good stuff starts. ;)

Tsukishima had to wait a few days before he could get his hands on tickets for the Nature center, mainly because Akiteru, who insisted on buying them no matter how much Tsukishima protested, was always busy with his shop and didn’t have a lot of free time for errands halfway across the city. Despite that, Tsukishima didn’t have the nerve to call Yamaguchi again until the stubs were physically in front of him, afraid that somehow Akiteru or even the Center wouldn’t come through and he’d be left to try and throw another perfect date together last minute. This perfect date alone was terrifying enough as was, and his fingers had shook as he’d dialed.

“Oh thank god,” Yamaguchi had answered, “I’d thought you were regretting asking me or something and were just going to avoid me forever.”

“Uh,” Tsukishima had answered intelligently. “No, sorry.”

And that’s how Tsukishima and Yamaguchi both end up running through the rain together the next Saturday, the former trying to pull his jacket over his head and the later hunching his shoulders and holding his elbows tightly. They dove under the shelter of a bus stop, their intended meeting place, and breathed heavily together for a minute before Yamaguchi started laughing.

“Well,” he said, shaking his arms out to dislodge some of the water still clinging to him. “I hope the super secret date you’re taking me on is indoors.”

It was not, in fact, indoors.

“Can’t tell you,” Tsukishima muttered instead, and then sent up a heaven wide prayer that the rain was localized and didn’t reach all the way to the Nature Center.

After much hassling and bickering and arguing, the blonde had managed to convince most of the Division to allow only Daichi to accompany him on the first date. It had taken several days to convince Tanaka and Noya and Yachi, who were all _way_ too invested in his love life, but they’d finally agreed when he’d threatened to never take them on any dates _ever._ Which he would, someday, but he needed to be able to think calmly and clearly for this first one. It was important. Vital. Imperative. He couldn’t let their commentary fuck him up.

The bus pulled up and both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima trundled inside, paying their fares before claiming a pair of seats and huddling together on them. Thankfully, the bus was heated.  

“Here,” Tsukishima shed his coat and laid it across an empty seat next to him so it could dry, “give me yours too.”

They shuffled around, Yamaguchi handing him his thin jacket, and the blonde spreading it out beside his own before they both settled, leaning in towards each other faintly to conserve a little warmth.

“Sorry about the rain.”

Yamaguchi smiled. “Not like you can control it.”

Okay no, technically he couldn’t. Not anymore anyways, but at one point in time he’d been able to, like most angels were, though it was considered decent to allow nature to run its course most of the time. Only adolescents playing jokes changed the weather with any regularity.

They conversed softly for the thirty minute ride, Yamaguchi playfully trying to wheedle more information about the date out of Tsukishima, and the blonde switching the subject each and every time until they were bickering and laughing and Yamaguchi had forgotten to keep looking out the window for hints about where they were headed.

It was relaxing, which was good, because Tsukishima was tense and Yamaguchi had appeared tense when they’d first met on the sidewalk and the clouds had opened up slowly, haltingly, and then all at once down on them. Maybe the rain was a blessing then, because ever since they’d run from it together the awkwardness and tension had been bleeding out of them bit by bit.

By the time Tsukishima stood to pull the cord for their stop and they bundled up in their now dry jackets, the air around them was calm and, dare he might even say it, familiar. They bumped shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk, the bus coughing up smoke as it turned a corner and disappeared. It didn’t look like it had rained here, but the air was fresh and cool and the foot traffic minimum and it only took a couple of minutes until Tsukishima was turning them into the Nature Center’s small entry building.

“I’ve never been here before,” Yamaguchi said, glancing at the wall of informational pamphlets and then the sign for the Statue Garden. His face visibly lit up, and when he turned to Tsukishima his brown eyes were bright, excited. “Is that what we’re here for?”

Tsukishima had to turn away to hide his sudden blush, but he managed a fairly confident and not strangled at all, “Yeah,” as they approached the front desk.

The man behind the counter took Tsukishima’s tickets and herded them off towards a large set of double glass doors that led out to the garden. It wasn’t an indoor facility like some centers the blonde had seen, with temperature and humidity control, but open to the sky and air and the fickle weather instead. It was however, closed off from the city with tall brick walls covered in ivy and crisscrossed with worn stone pathways and an unobtrusive sprinkler system.

Most of the plants consisted of hedges that probably flowered in the spring, but were thick and dark with leaves now, despite how late in the year it was. They lined the paths in some areas, giving way to colorful flower beds in others, and grassy areas with small trees strung up with simple white lights in others. The statues were scattered there out, everything from marble to stone to bronze, placed artfully amongst flowers and vines and beneath leafy tree boughs.

“How in the world do they keep all the plants from losing their leaves?” Tsukishima asked, only a minute into their walk after they’d stopped to admire a shiny, silver statue of a man reminiscent of The Thinker.  It was quiet and still and the only sounds were the soft murmurs of distant conversation, other people also enjoying the garden and its offered beauty.

Yamaguchi, who had been in almost slack-jawed awe since they entered, finally brought his attention back to his date with a small humming noise. “I have no clue. The one I keep on my balcony always goes into hibernation no matter what I try.”

“Can’t you just move it inside?”

“It’s really big. I could move it but it’d just be in the way, the whole apartment is really small. I do keep a couple inside though,” he explained, reaching out to trial his fingers along the leaves of a hedge. “They’re good company.”

Tsukishima couldn’t help a small incredulous look. “Plants?”

They approached another statue to their left, a small abstract thing with flowers spread around its feet, a black metal that glittered with a rainbow shine when the light hit it just right. Yamaguchi laughed quietly.

“Yeah. Some people actually name theirs but,” he shrugged, turning an almost shy smile on Tsukishima before he turned away again. “I’ve had two for years, since high school actually. The third I bought when I graduated, and the forth is the one on the balcony. I bought it when I moved into the apartment.”

Though he’d never owned a plant himself, Tsukishima imagined they probably weren’t that easy to keep alive. You had to have a certain touch, a green thumb or whatever, and he said as much, making Yamaguchi laugh quietly again.

“I actually killed my first one on accident.” He looked sheepish, and they turned a corner on the path out into a small wooded type area, willow trees with long hanging limbs slipping down over their heads and trailing the ground so that they had to navigate around them. His Carissime paused, chin tilted back to admire the weak sunlight dappling down into the cool shade as he spoke. “It was a learning experience though, and now I take really good care of the rest. They’re important to me. It’s nice to have something living around, reminds me I’m not quite alone. That’s why I bought them in the first place, to not be alone.”

Tsukishima was hit with a sudden and incredibly intense urge to kiss Yamaguchi, right there under the willow trees, to card his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of the other man’s neck, to hold him close and breathe his scent in. But he didn’t do any of those things, just reached the small distance between them and tangled his fingers with Yamaguchi’s. His Carissime jumped, startled, and turned wide eyes on him but didn’t pull away.

“I have no idea why I just told you that,” he murmured, and still he didn’t pull away, not even Tsukishima started walking again and pulled him along down the trail.

They moved in silence for a while, pausing to admire artwork and certain plants and even once so Yamaguchi could pick up a small green stone on the path and stick it in his pocket and still their fingers remained interlocked. Tsukishima was almost dizzy with it.

_“Breathe,”_ Daichi reminded him quietly, unobtrusively, and the blonde let out a shuttering breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

_“Now say something. He opened up to you, don’t leave him hanging.”_

“I grew up in an orphanage,” he said, blurted really and Yamaguchi glanced away from the fern he’d been studying curiously. Suddenly feeling subconscious he rubbed at the back of his head with his free hand, tucking his chin a little so that the only thing in his sight was his shoes and the pebbled path. “I didn’t really have any friends so I was always talking to myself out loud. The other children thought I was crazy and avoided me.”

Which was true, really. Because his body wasn’t exactly human he hadn’t been able to be born properly and was simply set down as a wailing infant on a doorstep with nothing but a blanket and a card with his name on it. Most of his memories didn’t return to him until he was six or so, allowing him a fairly normal childhood up until that point. And then he’d known about his purpose and his life and angels, and his Division started contacting him again. He hadn’t been talking to himself growing up, he’d been talking to them. And it was several painful years of being avoided and picked on for it that taught him to be as discrete about it as he was now. He hadn’t particularly minded that though, he’d never been particularly social to begin with, and he considered it a blessing when the other orphanage children continued to avoid him late into his teens, really up until the moment he turned eighteen and was kicked out of the house as soon as he had his first minimum wage job. The Division was more than enough company than he’d ever need.

Yamaguchi continued to stare at him a moment, the blonde could feel his gaze even as they walked. And then he leaned into Tsukishima, squeezing his hand tightly once, and that was it. Nothing else, just an easy acceptance and a small thank you that had Tsukishima’s heart fluttering and a blush rising to his face.

Not a moment later they stumbled upon the center of the garden, a circular pavilion with a small outdoor café with wrought iron tables and chairs. The food was cheap thanks to the price of the tickets, and surprisingly good and their waitress didn’t flirt with Yamaguchi, even though his cheeks were adorably red with the cold and his freckles were standing out enough for Tsukishima to find every single constellation in them if he tried.

When they finished they walked the rest of the trails they hadn’t been on, holding hands as they discussed their favorites of the sculptures in the garden, a conversation that followed them from the Nature Center, onto the bus and back to the stop they’d dove under earlier in the day to escape the rain. For a moment they stood there awkwardly, about to part ways but unsure.

“Thank you,” Yamaguchi eventually seemed to decide on, and now the red on his cheeks wasn’t entirely from the cold.

The thought crossed Tsukishima’s mind to lean in and kiss him then, like he’d wanted to do earlier, but something held him back and he just smiled. “I’ll call you?”

His Carissime nodded, a shy smile of his own splitting his lips, and then glanced away. “So uh,” he backed up a few paces, still smiling, blushing, “I’ll just…go? Yeah. I’ll go and you call me later.” With that he turned on his heel and fled, and it was awkward and rushed but Tsukishima laughed under his breath as he watched him go and waited until Yamaguchi had turned the corner before he turned and headed home himself.


	12. Jenny (Chapter Eleven)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny by Studio Killers
> 
>  
> 
> _I want to ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop so there's been a lot of anxiety and stuff going on with my job and I've fallen a bit behind on my word count for NaNoWriMo. Therefore expect another update tomorrow and possibly even one the day after that! I gotta get on my game.

 

Tsukishima awoke to the quiet sound of his phone chirping. It was thirty minutes before his alarm clock was set to go off, and really the only reason the text message noise had managed to reach into his slumber was because he’d accidently left his phone laying on his pillow next to his head the night before.

Cursing internally he pawed at it until he’d successfully turned the screen towards himself and unlocked it. There was a single message from Yamaguchi.

‘Yesterday was really fun. Thank you.'

Memories of the previous day’s date came washing through Tsukishima and his annoyance was instantly lost under an insane urge to smother his face in the comforter and let out a giggle of pure joy. He wouldn’t. He refused. Okay maybe he grinned a little but that was it.

The phone chimed again and this time Tsukishima nearly jumped trying to get to it, pulling it close so that he didn’t have to squint at the bright ass screen in the dull light of his room.

‘Do you want to meet up tonight? Get some coffee, visit the park?'

His fingers were flying over the keys before he’d even finished reading the damn thing, but he made himself pause for a minute before sending his resolute ‘Yes’ to ensure he didn’t respond with creepy speed. That was a thing wasn’t it? Responding too quickly? He’d seen enough humans bemoan it before but he’d really never given it much thought, it was just one of the things that had come with the new technological era.

Yamaguchi, apparently, had no qualms about answering quickly because not even two seconds after Tsukishima had hit send, another message appeared. This one was just a conformation for a time and place to meet, and he gave his consent before dropping the phone and rolling out of bed. He was far too geared now to just go back to sleep.

 _“You’re up early,”_ Suga commented as he started up his shower.

_I’ve got another date tonight with Yamaguchi._

The angel gave a low whistle of appreciate. _“Here we are all worrying about you, but apparently you’ve got plenty of game.”_

Tsukishima didn’t bother responding to that, testing the water temperature with his fingers, and when he deemed it hot enough, pulling his clothes off and slipping under the spray. Since he had extra time this morning he let himself lounge a little more than he usually did, and someone else in the apartment complex was probably going to bitch about the lack of hot water but he didn’t give a shit.

He’d spent twenty four years hunting down an unknown face and a familiar soul and he’d grieved and felt guilty and worried until he’d done little else but barely sustain himself and search. And then he’d finally found Yamaguchi and all the tension he’d been building up had dispersed and left him boneless only for new worries to pop up, worries about how to get close to a man he knew like his own heart and yet barely knew at all. Now? Now he had a second date lined up and for the first time in years he felt like he was flying, so fuck you he was going to take an extra long, extra hot shower, other tenants be damned.

Tsukishima emerged feeling fresh and maybe a little boiled and still grinning far too widely to uphold his asshole label. It didn’t matter, he got ready for work and left with plenty of time to grab a bite to eat on his way in.

 _“The Division is pretty interested in hearing about your date,”_ Suga reminded him as he stuffed his face with something crumbly and sweet that tasted vaguely of cinnamon. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but the woman behind the counter had recommended it and damn it was good.

 _Daichi didn’t give them a play by play?_ Not that he’d expected Daichi to, he would have asked Tsukishima’s permission first before divulging any personal information. It was kind of sweet how he tried to help Tsukishima keep some of his privacy still, but it didn’t matter much by this point.

 _“Nope,”_ Suga said, popping the p. _“And I know for a fact Tanaka, Noya, Yachi and even Hinata are planning on ambushing you for information the first chance they get.”_

Not even that news, which really he’d been expecting, could dull the pep in Tsukishima’s step. _Are they free right now?_

The angel gave a vague humming noise. _“I think they’re sleeping…I can get them if you want me to though?”_

 _Good._ Tsukishima gave a mental nod. _Do that, and have them come to me. Lord knows Akiteru is going to want to know what happened, might as well explain it to all of them at once._

Suga disappeared after that and not even five minutes later the four angels in question appeared in his mind, groggy and in various states of upset over being woken up with no explanation as to why.

Tsukishima took pride in their pain and damn this day was just looking better and better.

The front door to the music shop jingled when he opened it, and there was a simultaneous cry of his name from multiple voices. Saeko and Akiteru, previously conversing behind the check out counter, both came running towards him, the previous simply propelling her way over the counter and the later actually taking the time to go around it. They both stopped before they actually reached him, looking like eager children who knew a beloved adult had brought them gifts.

“You have to tell us everything!” Akiteru demanded immediately, and began to herd Tsukishima further into the shop, though thoughtfully without touching him.

“Every dirty detail,” Saeko agreed with a sage like nod of her head.

At that the four angels perked up a little bit, adding in half-assed choruses of their own, but it was evident the excitement was bringing them to full wakefulness.

So Tsukishima sat down in the rolling chair Akiteru brought out of his office (he and Saeko taking up residence in a pair of folding chairs that they both, for whatever reason, sat backwards in, crossed arms and chins resting on the backs of them as they stared, rapt, with wide eyes) and told them about his date.

He didn’t mention the personal things he’d told Yamaguchi about growing up in an orphanage, and he certainly didn’t tell them the personal things Yamaguchi had told him. Not even a dose of truth serum and a pair of pliers would have made him part with that information without Yamaguchi’s permission (huh, maybe he was starting to understand Daichi a little) but the story seemed to entertain all six of his listeners (possibly seven, he wasn’t sure if Suga had showed back up or not) and by the end they all seemed content.

Akiteru wiped fake tears (although they very well could be real) out of his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

Saeko looked like she was about ready to put him in a brotherly headlock and give him a noogie as a sign of affection but she refrained and gave him a heard thump on the back instead. “Know when you’re going to see him again?” she asked with a wolf grin. The news that they’d held hands had made her eyes light up and he was certain she was thinking untoward thoughts.

“Actually,” he paused and gave a small smirk of his own, his coworkers leaning into him with suspense. “I’m seeing him again tonight.”

Saeko gave a loud cheer and Akiteru actually stood up out his chair to punch at the air with a loud whoop.

You’d think he’d just told them he’d bought a winning lottery ticket or something.

Maybe he had.

Of course the angels had things to say as well, throwing out comments and questions that Tsukishima ignored for the moment in favor of Akiteru and Saeko. Normally he could juggle two conversations but with all the hype going on he would have been hard pressed to try so he didn’t. They could wait their turn.

An hour later his coworkers finally laid off Tsukishima (and boy had they grilled him about Yamaguchi, wanting to know everything from his eye color to his favorite band to the color of his underwear) and he gave a mental go ahead as he wandered into the employee lounge.

 _“No I think you’ve answered enough invasive questions for the day,”_ Suga said. Huh, guess he had come back after all. Leave it to Suga to not want to leave the younger members of the team alone together for any stretch of time.

 _“I just wanted to know where he was going tonight!”_ Tanaka complained.

 _“Yeah, and what he plans on wearing. Please tell me you’re going to change out of your work clothes,”_ Yachi added.

Hinata threw in a, _“I can’t believe the guy actually wants to spend time with you,”_ (wow thanks Hinata), and Noya said _“I want to go with you, please let me be your wing man! Heh. Wing man, get it? Cause I-“_

_We all get it, Noya._

Tsukishima pulled on his apron and tied it without really paying attention to what he was doing.

_Tanaka, we’re going to the park. Yachi, since I’m in such a great mood I’ll let you pick out my outfit after work. And Noya you can come with me. But only you._

There was a chorus of agreement and then protest as Hinata and Tanaka realized they were getting the short ends of the stick, followed by Suga talking in a very motherly tone that brokered no argument about what exactly the four young angels were going to do next (and that was, of course, leave Tsukishima the hell alone and go tend to their own duties).

The blonde left the employee lounge and got to work and really it should have been annoying the way Akiteru and Saeko kept coming up to him when he was in the middle of something and offering dating advice (some of which was really good, and some of which was really, really bad) but honestly he was in such a good mood he didn’t even care. He spent his entire day basically floating on cloud nine.

Akiteru gave him leave early, even though Tsukishima wasn’t supposed to meet Yamaguchi until seven, and he left work feeling faintly giddy and realizing he was still rather nervous about the whole ordeal. The closer it got the more his stomach twisted a bit. But it was okay. Because Yamaguchi _wanted_ to spend time with him, so as long the blonde didn’t say or do anything terrible or weird he’d be just fine.

True to her word, Yachi helped him pick out an outfit once he was home; a pair of near black jeans, a black long sleeved undershirt, a loose, pale t-shirt, the scarf he’d bought last year but never bothered to wear, a plaid jacket she managed to pull from some other dimension in his closet (honestly he didn’t even remember buying the thing) and firm instructions to pick up a pair of white gloves on his way to the date because it was cold as hell but they would also match.

Suga and Noya traded places as he showered for the second time that day, not bothering with his hair just scrubbing himself down to ensure he didn’t reek after a day on the job.

And then he was pulling on his carefully laid out clothes and really he wasn’t nervous so much as excited, he couldn’t wait to get to spend more time with Yamaguchi and god it felt like he was in Heaven again, preparing to go visit his Carissime in the place where all the unborn gathered and there was no pressure, just two people relaxing in each other’s presences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that my writing blog is [here](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/).


	13. A Sky Full of Stars (Chapter Twelve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay
> 
> _'Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars. I'm gonna give you my heart._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is probably my favorite chapter by far. I might have cried a little from cuteness while writing it.

It wasn’t until after Tsukishima had bought a pair of white cotton gloves (the ones Yachi insisted he buy earlier in the evening) that he stuck his hands in the pockets of the jacket that he didn’t remember buying and found _another_ set of gloves.

These ones were considerably smaller than his hands and made of a dark leather with a soft lining on the inside and suddenly Tsukishima wondered if maybe Yachi really had opened some kind of portal in his closet because these definitely weren’t his. His fingers were long and thin and the ones on these were shorter, wider.  

_Noya,_ he thought, breath billowing out in front of his face as he walked and dispersing around him. _Ask Yachi later where the hell she found this jacket._

Noya made a noise of confirmation. Tsukishima had already spoken to him to ensure he made as little noise as possible the entirety of the date and so far the other angel seemed to be taking it all to heart. Good.

The park came into view as Tsukishima turned the corner, a small oasis in the large city with walking paths, a playground, and even a duck pond with fountains in the middle. He couldn’t honestly say he visited often, but back when he’d been patrolling, looking for his Carissime, this area had always been one of his favorites.

A low stone wall ran the perimeter of the park, and from down the road the blonde could see Yamaguchi waiting at the entrance, tipping forward onto his toes and then rocking back on his heels. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket (still too thin for winter, Tsukishima really was going to have to do something about that) and a red and white beanie with ear flaps pulled low over his brow. When he caught sight of Tsukishima coming towards him he pulled one hand out of his coat to wave enthusiastically, seemed to consider he probably looked like a child and then stuffed it back in with his cheeks flaming.

God he was so fucking cute.

From the strangled noise Noya made Tsukishima was sure he had only just managed to hold back his thoughts on that.

“Hey,” the blonde greeted when close enough.

Yamaguchi gave a lopsided smile. “Hey, glad you could make it. I know it’s kinda late and all. I don’t know what you drink so I didn’t grab the coffee before hand, but there’s a place just on the corner.” He jerked his head to indicate a Starbucks further down the road and they fell into step together towards it.

“Also,” his Carissime continued, ducking his head and biting faintly at his bottom lip, “sorry I texted you so early this morning. I didn’t realize what time it was until after the conversation. I didn’t wake you up did I?”

Tsukishima shrugged his shoulders and offered a small smile. “Well I mean, you kind of did. But that’s okay, I really don’t mind.” _You could have texted me at two am and I wouldn’t have minded._

Noya made a vague kissing noise that the blonde tried very hard to ignore.

Apparently the unspoken bit of Tsukishima’s speech was pretty easy to understand, because Yamaguchi flushed red again and they fell into a companionable, if not a tad nervous, silence.

For a late winter evening, Starbucks was surprisingly busy. It didn’t smell as nice as the Dog Leg inside, but the aroma of ground coffee beans, cinnamon, whipped cream and tea were pretty universal. The pair stood in line together without talking, each examining the chalk board behind the buzzing baristas, and when it came time to order Tsukishima paid for both his vanilla macchiato and Yamaguchi’s chai tea latte.

Outside again, not wanting to linger in the too close press of the crowd, they blew on the steam from their cups and headed back to the park. It was, thankfully, much more deserted than the coffee shop, if not also a bit darker. There were lights on the paths, every twenty yards or so, but more than anything a full moon illuminated the scraggly branches of trees just beyond the playground, and the silvery grass, damp with dew.

“I love coming here at night,” Yamaguchi commented as they passed the stone wall. “It’s really great inspiration.”

“Inspiration?” the blonde echoed, wondering briefly if Yamaguchi was finally going to start sharing information about his painting. The way his Carissime paused in his tracks, caught off guard, spoke otherwise, and Yamaguchi gave a graceless shrug and a “Yeah, just in general you know,” before he raced to change the subject. “You know I thought this tea would warm my hands up but it’s really not working.”

Tsukishima studied him a moment, the way his face was turned down and away, like he knew he’d slipped up and was waiting to see if the blonde pounced on it or moved on. He wanted to pounce, really, he wanted to know about Yamaguchi’s passion for painting, if he had one, and if it connected to his love for art in general. But he couldn’t and he didn’t, instead pulling out the pair of gloves he’d found in his pocket earlier and holding them out.

“Here, I have no idea where these came from but they don’t fit me anyways. You want them?”

For a moment Yamaguchi just stared dumbly at them but he seemed relieved when he took them, handing Tsukishima his drink so that he could pull them over his fingers, although whether he was grateful for the warmth or for the blonde’s compliance in changing the subject it was hard to say.

“Thank you,” he murmured, taking his latte back, and they started down the path again. They passed the playground, abandoned at this time of night and eerie for it, and headed for the lightly wooded trails at the back of the park. Most of the trees were grey and spindly and had already lost most of their foliage, but some still clung stubbornly to it and the shifting leaves, rustled by a small breeze neither party felt, obscured the sky from them in swaying, shadowy patches.

Yamaguchi tipped his head back to watch them and then gasped. “I’ve never seen the stars so bright here.”

_“You’re welcome,”_ Noya all but purred as Tsukishima glanced up at the sky as well, past the trees to the inky blue backdrop, stars sprinkled across it like diamonds on velvet. They were ridiculously bright, as bright as the moon if not more so, and really there was no reason for it because they were in the middle of a large city with light pollution and industrial warehouses, yet there they were, glimmering, gleaming specks in numbers one could only hope to see in the country side.

_Do I want to know how you did that?_

The other angel gave a small laugh but didn’t say anything else and Tsukishima got the idea he was miming zipping his lips, the way the blonde had asked him to do earlier. Cheeky bastard. Well, at least the view was stunning.

“That’s scorpius,” he said, finding and pointing out the constellation easily. Yamaguchi leaned in towards him, trying to see where he was pointing, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Where? I don’t see it.”

“Here,” gently Tsukishima took Yamaguchi’s free hand in his own, using the shorter man’s index finger to trace the pattern of stars out, his Carissime’s face lighting up as it took shape.

“That’s amazing!”

Tsukishima glanced down at Yamaguchi, pressed close to his side, awe in his face as he looked at the sky, and couldn’t help reaching out to touch his Carissime’s cheek. “You know, you’ve got it right here.”

Yamaguchi startled but he didn’t pull away from Tsukishima’s touch, just looked up at him through his eyelashes and pursed his lips. “What?”

“You’ve got scorpius on your face.” Using the tip of his finger the blonde traced the familiar pattern, the one he’d kissed there himself twenty four years ago. “It’s right here.”

Everything was absolutely still, neither of them seemed to breathe, and then Yamaguchi pulled himself almost violently away and continued down the path so that Tsukishima was forced to trot after him to keep up. Did he fuck up?

“Sorry,” Yamaguchi murmured when Tsukishima caught up with him, holding his drink close to his chest, fingers wrapped tight around it like it might protect him as he walked. “Nobody’s ever really said anything nice about them…my freckles. I don’t really know how to react.”

That certainly made something hot and uncomfortable flare up in Tsukishima’s chest. Those freckles were his gift, his mark, a sign of his love and devotion to his Carissime. How dare someone, anyone at all, say something negative about them.

“That’s ridiculous,” he snapped with more heat than he meant to and Yamaguchi jerked his head to stare at him. His “Why?” was tentative.

 “Because I gave-“ was out of Tsukishima’s mouth before his brain caught up to his mouth and he snapped it closed again. _Because I gave them to you_ was not the kind of response he could give here, not without making Yamaguchi suspicious and curious and then he’d have to answer a bunch of questions that would ruin everything.

“Because I like them,” he finished lamely instead.

“You do?” The surprise in Yamaguchi’s voice was almost painful to hear.

“Of course.” Tsukishima could see his Carissime glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as they moved. They’d left the playground behind and trees boarded them all sides, the walkway stretching out before and behind. A bench was nestled off to their right and Yamaguchi approached it to throw their now cold and or empty drinks away in the bin next to it before coming back to Tsukishima’s side. His fingers slipped between the blonde’s, simple and easy, and they continued their walk.

 “I wanted to ask you a question,” Yamaguchi said later as they were working their way back towards the entrance of the park. They’d been quiet for the most part, watching the sky or the nearly bare trees or even, covertly, each other.

“Is that why you wanted to meet up?”

“Yes,” his Carissime murmured, and then amended, “well yes but no. I mean I wanted to see you too but I also had a question.” They paused on the sidewalk, unmoving but Yamaguchi didn’t face him yet, just stared out at where they could see the lights of the city through the skeleton like forest.

“Are we um, dating?”

Tsukishima’s heart stuttered a little and he reflexively squeezed Yamaguchi’s hand in his own as he swallowed on his dry throat. He didn’t quite get to an answer, or even another question before his Carissime was speaking again.

“Because I mean, there’s some weird difference between going on dates and actually dating and I really don’t know what it is, I have zero experience when it comes to this so I was hoping, you know, maybe you would know? Or at least you’d know if you wanted to date me or whatever or if this was it, just…dates. Every now and then. Or something.”

It took an embarresingly long amount of time for Tsukishima to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Uh,” he said intelligently as he waited for his brain to reboot.

_“Just say yes!”_ Noya stage whispered, and that got Tsukishima moving.

“I definitely want to date you.”

Yamaguchi turned to him then, gaze fixed down and to the side and brow furrowed as he bit at his lower lip.

“Yeah?”

The blonde nodded numbly. “Yeah.”

“You know,” he said slowly, stepping into Tsukishima’s space a little and still avoiding looking the blonde in the eye, “normally I don’t want to kiss people.”

Tsukishima’s heart did a funny, expectant little flip and he couldn’t help the way he leaned in towards his Carissime, nervous but eager. “Oh?” he said.

“I’m demisexual,” Yamaguchi went on, swaying the hand still clasped in Tsukishima’s gently between them. “I don’t want to kiss people until I’ve know them for a really long time. So it’s really weird.”

“What’s really weird?”

That finally seemed to draw Yamaguchi’s gaze to him, and the shorter man visibly sucked in a lung full of air as they stared at each other. “I know I haven’t known you that long but I feel like I have,” he said, and now his voice was barely a whisper, his brown eyes almost intense. “And I really want to kiss you.”

Tsukishima closed the distance between them slowly, carefully, keeping eye contact almost until the exact second their lips met to ensure that Yamaguchi wasn’t going to spook, to pull away, to look disgusted or scared or even angry. He didn’t, just tipped forward and met Tsukishima, brown eyes fluttering closed so that his dark lashes brushed his cheeks delicately.

At first they simply stood there, touching but barely, fingers interlocked, nervous energy in the air around them. But Tsukishima gathered his courage in the pit of his stomach and pushed forward, opening Yamaguchi’s mouth with his incrementally until Yamaguchi began to respond and they fell into a slow, steady rhythm, opening and closing to each other, Tsukishima sucking the shorter man’s bottom lip between his own.

They broke away, both a little breathless and Yamaguchi’s smile was no longer quite so tentative.

“Boyfriends?”

Tsukishima couldn’t help his own dorky smile. “Boyfriends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be from Yamaguchi's pov!


	14. Take Me to Church (Chapter Thirteen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take Me to Church by Hozier
> 
> _I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife. Offer me that deathless death, good God, let me give you my life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I guess you can figure out that I'm not going to finish this for NaNoWriMo. Not in time anyways, but I will finish it! We're only half way through though friends, so hold on this is going to be a bumpy ride. 
> 
> In other news, Happy Thanksgiving! If you don't celebrate, then happy Thursday. #staywoke

The morning after their park date, where Tsukishima had kissed him, where they’d declared themselves dating ( _real_ dating, not just dancing around each other wondering how the other felt actual to god boyfriends) Yamaguchi had only one thought on his mind.

He knew how to finish his painting.

It sat, untouched, on the easel in his bedroom and before he’d even fully  rubbed the sleep from his eyes he was readying his supplies, getting out brushes and colors and setting up his palate. Still in his pajamas, the phantom emotions left over from some unnamable dream still swimming through his mind, he looked at the grass and clouds and moon and distant city and outlined two small figures walking through the scene.

They started out as nothing more than dark blobs but he gave them arms and legs, fingers that laced together between them. One was tall, lithe, and to that one he added a touch of lighter colors to the back of its head, moon light shining on blonde hair. The other was shorter and its hair unruly, darker too, and this one he shadowed heavily, as if the person they walked with was shining and the glow fell short before reaching them.

It was obviously himself and Tsukishima but Yamaguchi was still just asleep enough to deny any plausibility until the painting was done and he was washing his brushes in the kitchen sink. Even then it looked too good, its missing piece finally added, that even when he realized what he’d done he only blushed and bit at his lip, unwilling to paint over it.

Why should he anyways? The urge to paint Tsukishima had been a living breathing thing since the first time he’d even seen the blonde, standing from that bench outside the museum. With his sharp features and pale skin, the lean lines of his body hidden under baggy clothes, his close cropped hair just this side of overgrown, like he’d forgotten to get it cut and it was just long enough to want to run your hands through it.  How could Yamaguchi not want to paint him? And it had only gotten worse the more time he spent with Tsukishima, because watching the man in motion was ten times better than any still print.

No, he couldn’t blame himself for adding he and his boyfriend to the painting. He could, however, blame himself when he picked up his phone and called Tsukishima.

The man answered sounding breathless and with a burst of staticy background noise that was too loud in Yamaguchi’s quiet apartment. Right, it was early and his boyfriend was probably on his way to work if he wasn’t already there. Fuck.

“I want to paint you,” Yamaguchi blurted without thinking, much like he’d dialed Tsukishima’s number in the first place. Could he get any more impulsive? Probably but he was finding out his blonde Adonis tended to have that effect on him.

On the other side of the line Tsukishima gave a small cough. “Well,” he said, and was that a touch of excitement in his voice? “I’m kind of on my way to work right now. But I’m off tomorrow? I can come over to your place or you can come over to mine.”

“Yours would be better,” Yamaguchi decided immediately. His was small and in a bad part of town and full of his work. He’d _literally_ just asked if he could paint the man (and bless Tsukishima for not seeming surprised or asking any questions about it, really) but he was still a bit nervous about showing it all to his boyfriend.

“I’ll have to clean up but that’s fine. Hey, I’m at work so I’ll text you the address later okay? You can come over around noon, I’ll make lunch or something.”

“Sounds good, see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

The line went dead and Yamaguchi pulled his phone away from his face with a breath of relief. Okay. Okay he had an entire day to decide exactly how much of his hidden hobby he wanted to share with Tsukishima. Really he wanted to share _all_ of it, which was absurd and mad because he’d never wanted to share even a speck of it with anyone before. He’d been too scared to.

There was an extremely long list of things Yamaguchi had been bullied for in high school. His art, paintings and drawings alike, had just been another nail in the coffin. Didn’t mean he hadn’t learned not to open himself up for the attack though. He wasn’t even selective when telling people about it, he just straight up didn’t tell them. His coworkers, his boss, his vague associates, the one or two people he considered friends. Not a single one of them knew.

Tsukishima was going to be different he guessed.

He snorted at the thought as he grabbed a spare canvas and pulled his brushes out from where he’d put them away only minutes before. Might as well prep it for tomorrow, get some kind of base going. He’d have to haul it out to Tsukishima’s place so he’d need to find a bag to put it and his other supplies in, an old backpack or something maybe.

Of course Tsukishima was different. Yamaguchi had known that seeing the man on a crowded sidewalk, and again in a quiet coffee shop sitting intimately together discussing their interests. The real kicker had been the dem-Omens. The Omens. Because he’d never met anyone who knew anything about them. And yes he knew that Tsukishima was keeping information from him about them, and that the first time he’d asked Yamaguchi out it has been a diversion tactic to keep him from asking anymore questions. He’d been a little upset when it first hit him, especially since he’d freaked the fuck out thinking about underground societies and world shattering secrets but the more he thought about it the more he realized that Tsukishima had given him plenty of information.

The Omen were harmless. They weren’t alive. They warned about premature death and nobody was supposed to see them.

There was more to it obviously, there had to be, and Tsukishima knew exactly what that was. But for whatever reason Yamaguchi trusted that the blonde hadn’t kept anything too important from him. He wasn’t sure why he did, he’d only know the man for…what, a week? Two? That and a couple of dates really shouldn’t inspire Yamaguchi to have the kind of faith he did in the blonde. And yet here he was. Trusting him about Omens and getting ready to show him his art.

If this came back to bite him in the ass he might just swear off trusting in general.

Okay that was a bit melodramatic but Yamaguchi felt like he was owed a little melodrama in life, he’d earned it damn it.

It turned out that Tsukishima lived in a fairly nice area of town. Not rich by any means, still just a white concrete apartment building with a gas station down the road and small family owned businesses scattered on either side, but it was certainly better than the rough area Yamaguchi lived in, unkempt and filled with dilapidating structures.

Yamaguchi readjusted the strap of his backpack, slung over one shoulder, and headed up the outside stair well to find apartment 211. It wasn’t exactly difficult to find and he knocked loudly, glancing up and down the aisle, at the wrought iron banister behind him and wondered what kind of place this was to live in. Were the neighbors noisy? What was the water pressure like?

Before that particular train of thought could go too far, the door swung inward to reveal Tsukishima, looking artfully tousled in a baggy pair of cargo pants and an army green button down, soft with wrinkles and looking well worn. God he was such a fucking hipster. (Really Yamaguchi couldn’t talk though, he was the walking talking poster boy for the starving artist lifestyle.)

Tsukishima smiled, and like always the expression looked hard around the edges, like he wasn’t quite sure how to move his muscles into something nice. It gave off a vague impression of anger or disgust but Yamaguchi had seen through it after the first few times. Now it was just endearing.

“Hey,” he said, opening the door further and stepping aside so Yamaguchi could come in. His feet were bare against the carpet and for some reason that was even _more_ endearing.

Not letting himself stare, because he would if he gave himself the chance, Yamaguchi brushed past him, pressing a fleeting kiss to Tsukishima’s cheek as he did because he could and because he _wanted_ to, which was a new and beautiful thing. The short front hallway opened onto a connected kitchen and living room, both devoid of personality, an old leather couch and a half filled book shelf in the later and a rickety looking table with mismatched chairs in the former. Neither looked terribly lived in.

“Make yourself at home,” Tsukishima said, coming up behind him. “I just ordered some Chinese, should take thirty minutes or so to get here. I figured you could get set up in that amount of time? And then we can have lunch and you can paint afterwards.”

“I can probably finish an outline in that amount of time,” Yamaguchi mused, glancing back at his boyfriend. “Did you have a place in mind?”

That earned him an awkward shrug and Tsukishima padded around him towards a doorway off to the side that hadn’t previously caught Yamaguchi’s attention. The blonde emerged again, carrying a wooden easel with him.

“I uh,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, “didn’t think you’d be able to bring yours. If you have one. So I…got one.”

Yamaguchi felt himself melt a little and was suddenly infinitely glad he’d decided to share this part of himself with Tsukishima.

“Thanks,” he said warmly, and then glanced around at his options. “Maybe you could just, sit at the table?” It wasn’t like there was a whole lot to work with here, the apartment was practically threadbare. Did Tsukishima even live here?

“I’m not home often,” the blonde mumbled as he went to take a seat, obviously catching the question in Yamaguchi’s gaze. He positioned himself a little awkwardly, squirming around on one of the taller chairs until he had one arm propped against the table, chin on his relaxed fist, and the other arm was settled restlessly in his lap. “This okay?”

Yamaguchi gave a vague humming noise, already slipping into concentration, eyeballing the way he’d have to outline Tsukishima’s body, the colors he’d have to blend to get the right effects, the spectrums he’d need. Once he had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to do he set the easel up ten feet or so away from his boyfriend and started pulling supplies out of his backpack, canvas first and then paints and brushes and his palate.

The canvas was already prepped; he’d decided on a semi solid grey background, neither dark nor light enough that he’d have any trouble changing it at a moment’s notice if he chose to. Most of the time he preferred to outline his piece first in thin black lines, let that dry, and then go in and fill all the detail and color in as it came, covering up any traces of the original guidelines. It was a technique he’d taught himself and it worked well for him so he didn’t typically deviate from it, unless he was working with water colors or a particularly unusual image.

The thirty minutes ticked by quickly, and Yamaguchi was just putting his finishing touches on the outline when there was a knock at the door.

“Can I move?” Tsukishima asked tentatively, and at Yamaguchi’s distracted nod he stood, stretched his arms over his head and padded to the entry way to pay the delivery guy.

It wasn’t until there was a warm hand at the center of his back and the blonde was peering over his shoulder that he realized he was still entirely focused and that he should probably pull himself away from the canvas before he stood there all day.

“I’m sorry but I’m not seeing anything yet,” Tsukishima deadpanned, guiding Yamaguchi towards the couch as the shorter male laughed.

“It’s not supposed to look like anything yet. It’s just an outline,” he explained.

They settled onto the couch, Tsukishima dispensing cardboard boxes between them until they were both digging in, stealing from each other and trading dumplings for mushuu pork and back and forth.  No matter how many times they did this Yamaguchi still marveled at how relaxed he was with Tsukishima, how easy words came to his lips, laughter, things he’d never thought he’d tell anyone else. Tsukishima told him about his work, Akiteru and Saeko, his only friends, and Yamaguchi spoke a little of his art, when he’d started and why. It had been a good escape from school, from cold words and sharp tongues, and it had served even when his bullies had found out about it and used it against him. A life long passion he guessed.

“Still pisses me off,” Tsukishima grumbled. They’d moved the empty lunch cartons to the small coffee table, Tsukishima with his back against the couch and Yamaguchi turned to face him, one leg drawn up onto the seat.

“What does?”

“That you got picked on for stuff like that.” His lips turned down, golden eyes narrowing slightly as he reached out and touched Yamaguchi’s face, slender fingers soft against the man’s cheek, and Yamaguchi couldn’t help leaning into it a little. “Your art and your freckles are part of you. There’s no excusing making you feel bad about them.”

It was still so weird, the low current tingling just under his skin. It caught him off guard even now, precisely because it was so unusual, unexpected. He hardly ever felt arousal or attraction, it just didn’t come naturally to him, not until he knew someone deeply, intimately, and that had only ever happened to him once.  Looking at how that had played out, he really shouldn’t be so eager to lean forward now, to brush Tsukishima’s lips with his own, shiver when long fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer firmly but gently.

Yamaguchi was inexperienced, had only ever kissed that one other person, but Tsukishima worked his mouth expertly, opening him up and licking inside tentatively. He groaned, urging the blonde on, and Tsukishima responded enthusiastically, gaining confidence as they went, until he had one arm wrapped around Yamaguchi’s waist and was trying to pull them chest to chest.

A soft laugh bubbled up from Yamaguchi’s throat, and he pressed gently against Tsukishima’s chest to stop him. “Hold on,” he gasped, grinning, when the blonde paid him no head and started kissing down his throat when he found Yamaguchi’s lips unwilling to participate.

With a roll of his eyes, Yamaguchi pushed against him a little more firmly, until he could wiggle his way forward and into Tsukishima’s lap. There. Much more comfortable.

His boyfriend had infinite more luck pulling Yamaguchi flush against him this way, and Tsukishima gave a little hum of approval as he continued mouthing neatly at the shorter man’s neck. Which, really, felt amazing, and was making Yamaguchi kind of hazy, his lips parting on breaths growing quickly rapid.

He’d just managed to slip his fingers under the hem of Tsukishima’s shirt, skimming over warm, taut skin, when the blonde pulled away from him suddenly. His eyes, pupils blown, widened incrementally before narrowing as he sighed.

“Shit,” he murmured, pulling Yamaguchi’s hands from under his shirt. Yamaguchi, for his part, frowned and cocked his head to the side.

“Something wrong?”

“No, there’s just…” Tsukishima seemed to debate something internally a moment before he turned to the shorter man, cupping his face gently and motion reminded Yamaguchi that he was still sitting in the blonde’s lap. “I have something very important to tell you.”

Something both excited and worried twisted in Yamaguchi’s chest and he was silent, waiting as Tsukishima squeezed his eyes shut and seemed to gather his courage before he blurted out, shakily, “I’m an angel.”


	15. Riptide (Chapter Fifteen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riptide by Vance Joy
> 
>  
> 
> _I love you when you're singing that song and I got a lump in my throat 'cause you're gonna sing the words wrong_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all my writing skills decided to collectively abandon me after the end of NaNoWriMo (which, sadly, I did not finish) and that's very upsetting because I have several fics I have to write for Christmas, not to mention keep updating this and short story short I have a deadline coming up in five days and I'm not ready please help me. 
> 
> Oh, this chapter's a bit short and I apologize for that. I'll make it up with the next few.

“Are you making fun of me?”

Yamaguchi’s voice wavered a little, the notes unsteady with something that resembled fear. Before Tsukishima had time to react to that though, to find his own voice, to inflect something like reassurance into his words, the man was pulling away from him, out of his lap. He stood, hands balled into lightly shaking fists by his sides, and he repeated, “Are you making fun of me?” quieter, almost desperate but a demand now, no longer a question.

Tsukishima opened his mouth, closed it, searched for something, anything at all to say, but the only words within his mind were the ones he’d already spouted. _I’m an angel._

God, why had he said that? Why had those words passed his lips? (He knew exactly why, because he felt guilty as hell continuing his relationship with Yamaguchi without telling him the truth. It was risky to reveal everything so soon, but keeping it from him would just as effectively push him away as telling him too soon would. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.)

Eventually he groaned, rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m not making fun of you,” he said, reaching out to wrap his fingers gently around Yamaguchi’s wrist. The man didn’t pull away and for some reason Tsukishima found himself extremely grateful. If he’d pulled away, if he’d flinched or turned his back on the angel he wasn’t sure what he would have done.

 “Sit down,” he grumbled, gaze flickering between the upholstery of his couch and his boyfriend “and I’ll explain.”

Yamaguchi obeyed, but tentatively, and the guarded look on his face spoke volumes. _Way to go Tsukishima, earn his trust and then dash it against the rocks why don’t you, that’s the perfect way to make him fall in love with you._

 _“Don’t be so harsh on yourself,”_ came Suga’s smooth cadence, comforting even if Tsukishima didn’t really want to be comforted right now.

 _“Just tell him the truth,”_ Asahi chimed in, for once the tentative edge of his voice non-existent. “ _He’s upset right now but you can fix this.”_

_I fucking hope so._

“I promise I’m not making fun of you,” he repeated, “I’m actually an angel. Which…sounds crazy but it’s true. I was born a few hundred years ago in Heaven.”

_Can I basically skip over everything about him? I don’t want him to know we knew each other yet._

Suga hummed thoughtfully. “ _If you’re careful.”_

Yamaguchi looked confused, a little incredulous and a lot worried but he still asked, sounding completely unsure of himself, the demanding tone vanished, “Why are you here then?”

A little breath worked itself free from Tsukishima’s chest; at the very least Yamaguchi was willing to _try_ and believe him. He hadn’t turned away and he was willing to listen. “I’m looking for something,” the angel responded.

There was a beat of silence and then, quietly, “How do I know if you’re telling the truth? How do I know you just…didn’t want to kiss me and made up some kind of story on the spot. Because it’s okay if you don’t want to kiss me I know I’m not-“

Tsukishima surged forward, something electric under his skin driving him because he would not and could not hear the end of that sentence, so he molded his lips to Yamaguchi’s and prayed the stiff line of the man’s spine would loosen.

It took a moment, a still, tense moment where Tsukishima swore the electricity inside bubbled up out of him, expanding and surging around the room, taking up all the air, but then it gave with an inaudible snap and Yamaguchi was leaning into him, soft and pliant and open-mouthed. It wasn’t until the angel tilted his head and felt the brush of warm, wet skin against his own that he realized his boyfriend was crying.

He pulled back, a little startled, and found his hands were already cupping Yamaguchi’s face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Why are you crying?”

“’m sorry,” Yamaguchi mumbled, leaning into Tsukishima’s palms with a shaky kind of sigh. “I’m sorry it just really scared me I thought maybe I grossed you out or something and maybe you didn’t like me after all or you changed your mind. And I really, really shouldn’t trust you, I barely know you and you saying you’re an angel certainly doesn’t help matters I mean think about how that sounds it’s asinine but I just….I just….”

Tsukishima leaned in close, rested his forehead against Yamaguchi’s and watched through the lenses of his glasses as the man closed his eyes, bright with tears still unshed, his lashes clumped together and sticky against his skin.

“You just?” he prompted gently.

“I really trust you. And it’s kind of terrifying.”

They sat together for a while, Yamaguchi with his eyes closed, sniffling every now and then but Tsukishima noted that he’d stopped crying at least, and the angel himself sat poised and quiet and waiting for his boyfriend to make the next move.

 _“Must be difficult for him if he’s getting transference from before he was born,”_ Asahi lamented softly.

 _“He can’t understand how he’s feeling, poor boy,”_ Suga agreed and for the first time, something occurred to Tsukishima.

 _It’s because of me, isn’t it?_ he asked, mental voice nothing more than a murmur. _He’s seeing the Omens, remembering his feelings for me, it’s because my presence is connecting him to his past memories. I’m doing this to him._

The angels were silent and before they could gather their thoughts or offer whatever kind words they’d surely find, Yamaguchi was pulling away and rubbing absently at his red eyes.

“Sorry,” he laughed, but there was no humor in the sound, only self-deprecation. “That must have been gross.” 

“Not at all.” Tsukishima  swiped the still damp spot just under his boyfriend’s eyes one last time before moving away. “This has all been really heavy, do you want to finish the painting another time? You can leave it here, of course.”

Yamaguchi appeared to contemplate the question for a moment before giving a little shrug. “I have a lot of questions for you,” he said, not really looking at Tsukishima directly but glancing over every few seconds. “About the…angel stuff. But I think getting my thoughts together first might be a good idea.”

Right. Because it wasn’t going to be as simple as just telling him, of course he’d have questions about it. And he deserved to have them answered truthfully. Tsukishima just hoped he could dance around them well enough without actually lying. A solid ‘I can’t tell you’ when he asked the inevitable ‘What are you searching for?’ should keep him off that particular track, right? And everything else Tsukishima could be one hundred percent about, no little white lies and no omissions.

“That’s fine.” He stood from the couch, gathering up the take out containers from their lunch. The happy conversation, the gentle teasing back and forth, felt like it had all happened years ago, distant from this somber moment. “Take as much time as you need.”

Yamaguchi collected his art supplies while Tsukishima cleaned up, rinsing his brushes in the sink and placing them back in the wooden box with the ones he hadn’t used.  They were silent, working in tandem until Yamaguchi was throwing his bag over his shoulder and mumbling a good bye.

“Hey,” Tsukishima found himself calling, catching the man’s arm before he could make it to the door. Running on pure impulse he pressed a quick kiss to Yamaguchi’s forehead, squeezing his arm gently before releasing. “Text me when you’re ready to talk.”

Gaze fixed on the floor, Yamaguchi gave a small nod and for a moment Tsukishima thought he was going to say or do something else because he leaned in close to the angel’s space, almost resting his bowed head against Kei’s shoulder, but then he turned and fled and the door echoed sadly as it shut behind him, his receding footsteps beating a quiet melody into silence.

 _“Was he always so timid,”_ Suga asked into the quiet, “ _back in Heaven?”_

Tsukishima sighed and spoke aloud to his empty apartment. “Not at all.”

 _“No wonder those old emotions are scaring him,”_ Asahi added, and Tsukishima rubbed tiredly at his face. It was only three or four in the afternoon but he felt like he could curl up in his bed and not move for days, weeks even. Actually that didn’t sound like a half bad idea.

There was a small frustrated noise from Suga, almost angry and Tsukishima coul almost picture him shaking his head. “ _No, go out and get coffee or something, don’t mope around here. Come back when you’re feeling better.”_

 _What are you, my mother?_ Tsukishima snapped.

 _“As a matter of fact I am,”_ Suga snapped back, “ _in the Division at least. Now get your ass outside and go do something that will keep your mind off of moping. Nobody knew what would happen when you followed him to Earth, that he’d start remembering things, so you can’t be blamed for not predicting the future. There’s only one thing you can do now, and sitting around feeling like shit and blaming yourself isn’t it. So go think of a way to comfort him when he comes back then come home and get some sleep. That’s a direct order as your superior.”_

Tsukishima rolled his eyes heavily, but he was already reaching for his jacket even as Asahi gave a small laugh.


	16. Stolen Dance (Chapter Fifteen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stolen Dance by Milky Chance
> 
>  
> 
> _I want you by my side so that I never feel alone again. They've always been so kind, but now they've brought you away from me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heey you guys remember what I promised for next chapter, right? ;) 
> 
> In other news, I'd like to try and finish this fic before I go off to college in Janurary, but I seriously doubt that's going to happen. This means the last few chapters, the ones that I can't finish in the next week or so, you probably won't see for a while. Sorry.
> 
> OH! And before I forget, somebody made some absolutely beautiful fanart of the story! You can find it [here](http://cutie-xo.deviantart.com/art/tsukki-494420175). Seriously thank you so much cutie_xo I adore this picture it's the background on my phone.

Allowing Yamaguchi to leave his unfinished canvas in Tsukishima’s apartment turned out to be a mistake.

Every time he passed by it, on the way to the kitchen, back into his bedroom, hell even just walking in the front door, he was forced to stop and stare and try to connect the vague outline there into something solid or meaningful. He thought maybe that line there was the curve of his shoulder, and maybe that was supposed to be the kitchen table, or maybe just an odd rectangular blob, and those scattering of lines could possibly be beams of light but who really knew. It was artistic, something both professional and emotional about the incomplete picture, the could be’s, and Tsukishima found it entirely too distracting just sitting around like that.

The angels suggested moving it, but somehow Tsukishima couldn’t bring himself to. What if Yamaguchi got mad at him for touching the canvas? They also suggested throwing a blanket or a sheet, or hell even a jacket over it and the easel, just to keep it out of view, but that seemed even worse than moving it. So he just tried to avoid looking at it, like trying to edge through a crowded room without catching anyone’s eyes, except he and the canvas were the only two in his entire apartment.

It reminded him of the dream he’d had, a week or two before, right after he’d seen Yamaguchi’s painting displayed at the museum. Long, delicate fingers painting him into life with care and ease and vibrant, mind filling colors. This half finished piece was artistic, there was talent there, but it was, ultimately, _wrong_. It lacked the color, the life that Tsukishima knew Yamaguchi was capable of.

When Yamaguchi called, three days later, and asked to come back to the apartment later in the afternoon, Tsukishima was relieved. He could make things up with his boyfriend, but he could also stop being haunted by the incomplete piece.

At the very least, it had distracted him enough to stop him from worrying about the real problems that had arisen with Yamaguchi. Namely that Tsukishima’s presence was dragging forward old memories of Yamaguchi’s time in Heaven, not enough to form a whole picture, but just enough to confuse and disorient the man.  And then of course Tsukishima wasn’t going to be able to tell him _everything_ about the angels, because revealing their past connection was a risky move he wasn’t willing to take.

Which is why he paced the floor of his living room (gaze cast down at the carpet so as not to catch sight of the canvas) until there was a rather timid sounding knock.

_“Good luck!”_ Hinata enthused, followed by Kageyama shushing him. They’d been surprisingly quiet ever since they’d arrived earlier in the day, trading out with Daichi and Ennoshita, and Tsukishima was starting to think one of the higher ups had put out a new rule about bothering him too much. Good.

Yamaguchi looked a little nervous, his hands tightening and loosening on the strap of his backpack, but he still offered a smile when Tsukishima answered the door.

“Hey,” Kei greeted, gesturing his boyfriend into the apartment with what he hoped was a warm smile of his own.

There was a brief awkward moment after Tsukishima had closed the door and when Yamaguchi was just standing in the living room, saying nothing, but then he caught sight of the easel, unmoved, and stepped up to look over the unfinished canvas. His fingers traced a few of the lines, his head cocking in the side as he looked at something Tsukshima had no hope of ever seeing. Then he let his back pack slip to the floor, carefully of course, and asked, “Would you mind if I continued this? I have a lot of questions for you, but I’d like to work while we talk if that’s okay.”

It was probably an excuse to put something between them during the conversation, a barrier, but Tsukishima figured he could allow it. He sat at the kitchen table, trying to mimic the pose from days before, and waited while Yamaguchi fussed around the easel, pulling supplies out of his bag and randomly moving them around, setting them down, picking them up, putting them aside.

“The lighting’s different,” he complained a few minutes later, looking Tsukishima up and down, “I knew I should have come earlier in the day.”

“Can you still paint?”

Yamaguchi huffed faintly, “Yeah it’s fine. I’ll just have to do the shading from memory.”

They were quiet for a while after that, Yamaguchi focused and Tsukishima with his gaze fixed on a far, distant point. Even Hinata and Kageyama kept their mouths closed (and really he was going to have to thank somebody for that).

“So?” he said eventually, when the air in the room had grown from awkward to rather comfortable, and he slid his gaze back towards his boyfriend, just in time to see Yamaguchi peek out from behind the canvas, one brush stuck behind his ear and a smear of black paint along his cheek.

“So?” he repeated.

“I thought you had questions for me.”

“I do, I’m just trying to figure out what I should open with.” Yamaguchi ducked down behind the canvas again, and when he spoke his voice was muffled by it slightly, “I guess I should ask if there’s any way you can prove it. Being an angel and all.”

_“Can you?”_ Kageyama murmured distantly, like he hadn’t quite meant to say it out loud, and Tsukishima grimaced.

“I don’t think I can. Most of my powers were stripped with my wings.”

“Powers?”

“Ah,” Kei fumbled, “yeah we um, we all have roles. In Heaven. And in order to perform them, we have certain abilities. Mine had to do with premonition.”

“Alright, so you can’t prove it,” Yamaguchi mused, pausing to glance around the canvas again, and now his eyebrows were raised curiously, expression interested. “Do you have anything to do with those Omens you were talking about?”

Oh, so he’d caught that he? Well it was only a matter of time really, Yamaguchi wasn’t stupid. “Sort of,” he responded, speaking slowly. “My role had to do with finding Omens and keeping people from dying before they were supposed to. Hence the premonition abilities. Now that I’m on Earth though, I can’t do it as well anymore.”

“And you’re here because you’re looking for something?”

“Right.”

“Are you alone, or are there more of you?” That took Tsukishima by surprise a bit, and he faltered in his response. Because he wasn’t _technically_ alone, not really, but it wasn’t like any of the other angels had come down with him. Except Yachi, who had apparently been supplementing his wardrobe for years without his noticing, but even then she still retained her true angelic form.

“There aren’t any others on Earth,” he finally decided, “not like I am. I’m not alone though, my Division speaks to me. There’s always one or two of them hanging around.”

This time when Tsukishima caught sight of Yamaguchi, he was glancing around the room, and then at the space around Kei like he might be able to see the aforementioned angles. “They’re here right now?”

“Um, no, not quite. They’re in Heaven but there’s like a…a radio wave they can tune in to and speak to me with. I hear them in my head.”

Yamaguchi stopped his glancing around and ducked back down behind the easel. “Sounds invasive.”

And oh, really, Kei could agree with that. “It is,” he sighed. “Imagine having a constant stream of narration in your head. All the time.”

“Are they speaking now?”

“Actually, no,” Tsukishima hummed, “but I think there was an order or something put out not to use my head as a place to hang out anymore.”

Yamaguchi huffed a laugh and they fell into a brief silence before, finally, “So what are you looking for?”

And damn, really that had been question Tsukishima was dreading, the good mood his boyfriend’s humor had brought vanishing almost entirely.

_“It’s not really lying!”_ Hinata chirped.

_“It’s lying by omission,”_ Kageyama countered.

Tsukishima ignored them both in favor of averting his gaze and trying not to fidget in his seat. “I can’t tell you that.”

The soft sounds of Yamaguchi’s movements, his brush against paper, the switching of his weight, all stopped abruptly and there was a stretch of absolute stillness before, “Why not?” Apparently his good mood hadn’t lasted either.

 “It’s not,” he started, paused and started again, “It’s not anything bad. I’m just not supposed to spread the information. Division orders.”

Almost cautiously, movement returned to the room. “So you can go around telling people you’re an angel, but you can’t tell them why you’re hanging out around here instead of in Heaven?” Yamaguchi asked, sounding incredulous.

“Yes, well, no. I wasn’t really supposed to tell you about any of this.”

“So why did you?”

Tsukishima drew in a shaky breath, kept his gaze fixed on the far wall as he spoke. “I didn’t want to keep something that important from you, about who I am.”

There was a sigh, some rustling, the sound of things being set down, and then Yamaguchi was stepping into Tsukishima’s line of view, that brush still pinned behind his right ear, face smudged with paint.

“Everything about this is throwing me off,” he mumbled, stepping into Kei’s space and lightly threading the fingers of both hands between them, gaze downcast. “You’re apparently some kind of angel. I’m seeing things I’m not supposed to be. You’re entirely too earnest for only knowing me a week or so, and I’m…”

“You’re?” Tsukishima prompted gently, squeezing the hands in his.

“I’m in love with you. Or something.” A beat, and then Yamaguchi rushed on, his words stumbling over themselves in their haste to escape. “I mean it’s really stupid we barely know each other at all, but honestly I’m rather inclined to believe you’re an angel because it explains how much I trust you and how much I…if you’re an angel then I’m not weird or creepy for feeling like I do and it’s not my fault because humans are supposed to love angels aren’t they? Or something like that, you’re magical or whatever so it makes sense right? And I just…” his words faded away, knuckles white where he gripped Tsukishima’s hands in his own.

Finally, he lifted his head, eyes wide and frightened, “I’m not crazy, right? For loving you?”

Tsukishima let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, leaned forward till their foreheads were touching, and dove into the words that had taken him over two years to reach before, “No, I love you too.”

Yamaguchi let out a faint whimper. “Oh thank fuck,” he breathed, and then crashed their mouths together with such force that really the first few seconds couldn’t even be considered a kiss. But be backed up a tad and though it was still desperate, it was no longer painful, and Tsukishima found himself tilting his head to meet Yamaguchi’s sudden ferocity.

Which was when he felt the slide of something cool and wet across his face and jerked back in surprise.

Brown eyes blinked open hastily, like Yamaguchi thought Kei was retreating from him, and Tsukishima’s “What was that?” was lost in his boyfriend’s sudden laughter.

“Oh,” he wheezed, reaching up to brush his thumb along Tsukishima’s cheek, and when he pulled it away the pad was black with paint, “oh I forgot I had that behind my ear, I’m so sorry.”

Tsukishima mirrored the movement, though the paint on Yamaguchi’s face was already dry. “We match now.”

“Do we really?” Yamaguchi laughed, and then pulled away to put the offending paintbrush tip down in the cup of water he’d been using. “It’s okay, it comes off easily enough with soap and water.”

A brief interlude into the kitchen had them both scrubbing at each other’s faces in turn with a damp wash cloth, Yamaguchi still laughing a little under his breath, and when Tsukishima backed him up against the counter he was still laughing, threading his arms behind Kei’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

“Do you want to continue painting?” Tsukishima asked when they parted for breath, and Yamaguchi grinned up at him.

“I’d much rather keep kissing you.”


	17. Love like Woe (Chapter Sixteen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love like Woe by The Ready Set
> 
>  
> 
> _'Cause you're a pretty little windstorm out on the boulevard, something like a sunset, oh, you're a shooting star_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohooo guys we made it to the rating change!! Yay! Laughs this is the longest chapter yet and its ALL smut have fun with that guys. 
> 
> Also, if you missed it last chapter please please please check out the amazing artwork that was done for this fic! You can find it [here](http://cutie-xo.deviantart.com/art/tsukki-494420175), and once again thank you cutie_xo.

“I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

Tsukishima grinned and happily obliged, leaning back in to capture Yamaguchi’s lips with his own. The stress of his admission, of having to lay out the truth out for his boyfriend, sat heavy between his shoulder blades, a veritable knot of tension. But prying into Yamaguchi’s mouth, having the man respond eagerly against him, the arms around his neck tightening as Tadashi tilted his head for a better angle, all of it made the stress start to slide away, the knot loosening into something liquid and inconsequential.

It was like they were picking up from a few days before, Yamaguchi in his lap on the couch, the scent of Chinese takeout still on their breaths, their chests still shaking quietly with laughter as they simply enjoyed the other’s company and the novelty of being physically close. The only difference now was that Yamaguchi knew Tsukishima was an angel…and he accepted it.

Spurred on by that, by the reminder of that acceptance, Tsukishima pulled his boyfriend tight against him, one hand carding up through his hair to hold the back of his head, the other tight against the small of Tadashi’s back.

The kiss turned hard, bruising, Yamaguchi arched against Tsukishima’s body to try and make up for their height difference, his throat bared, arms almost painfully tight where they held Kei.

Tsukishima groaned, slid his hands down Yamaguchi’s sides to his ass, and then grabbed tight, guiding the other man’s legs up and around his waist until he could shuffle them back and set Yamaguchi down on the counter top, putting them at equal height.

The little gasp Yamaguchi let out in response pulled their kiss apart, but Tsukishima just pressed his lips to the other man’s jaw and started working his way down. He sucked and licked at the curve of Yamaguchi’s neck, felt the man pull gently on his hair in encouragement, heard the small puffs of breath as Tsukishima scraped his teeth along sensitive flesh.

“Tsukki,” he whined when Kei sucked a dark bruise into his collar bone, thumb hooked in the collar of Yamaguchi’s t-shirt to pull it aside.

Humming, Tsukishima released the spot and moved back up to kiss Yamaguchi, the man’s hands finding Kei’s face and holding him steady, legs wrapped tight around his waist.

This was new territory for them, for their human versions at least. They’d had plenty of time to explore each other in Heaven, had done so extensively (or as much as an angel and a being without a proper form could) but this was…it was different. More solid, more electric. When Yamaguchi’s tongue traced along Tsukishima’s bottom lip, a shudder started from the crown of his head and traced a course all the way down to his toes. When soft fingers stroked down his cheek, along his neck and settled somewhere on his chest, above his heart, his mind went light and fuzzy.

The counter was pressing into Tsukishima’s legs, his hips, and he braced his palms against it when Yamaguchi kept trying to draw him even closer. The edge dug into his stomach, just below his navel, and it was rather painful, but Yamaguchi was kissing him senseless and there was room for little else in his thoughts. Then Tadashi was tugging on his shirt, and they broke apart so that Tsukishima could pull away and tug it off. This time he dragged Yamaguchi forward to meet him, till he was only just barely still seated on the counter and he had to cling to Tsukishima’s shoulders to keep them close.

Distantly he realized the air of his apartment hitting his bare skin was infinitely cool compared to Yamaguchi pressed against him, that Tadashi was radiating warmth like his own, personal sun, but then his boyfriend was pulling away, breath puffing in the small space between them.

“Um,” he said, and the pause gave Tsukishima time to take in the disheveled state of his hair, the redness of his cheeks. Fuck, he was cute. “You uh, said earlier something about the other angles?”

And really that threw Tsukishima off a bit. “Excuse me?”

Yamaguchi squirmed on his perch, and Tsukishima realized oh, that would be his hard on pressing into Kei’s stomach. That was extremely distracting, and he almost missed his boyfriend’s next words.

“They’re not uh, with you right now? Watching?”

That was a good question.

_Hinata, Kageyama?_

_“Y-yes?”_ came Hinata’s tentative reply.

_Get out._

_“Way ahead of you,”_ Kageyama grumbled, and then there was silence. Tsukishima waited another moment or two, ensuring they really were gone, before turning back to Yamaguchi.

“Not anymore they’re not.”

Tadashi breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay, well in that case can we…maybe…?”

“Maybe?” Tsukishima echoed, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe what?”

Scowling, Yamaguchi hit a closed fist again Tsukishima’s chest lightly, more of a thump really, “You know what I mean,” and, as if to ensure Kei got the picture, he wiggled his hips forward, pressing his erection noticeably into Tsukishima’s bare stomach.

Of course Tsukishima knew what he meant, he’d just been teasing. With something of a playful growl, he hauled Yamaguchi off the kitchen counter, the man squeaking and wrapping both arms and legs around Kei once more. His noise of alarm turned into a laugh however, as Tsukishima turned and walked him through the apartment, and the little devil ducked his head and started kissing at Kei’s neck, like he was trying to break the blonde’s concentration and get dropped on his ass.

Luckily, they made it to the bed in one piece. Getting on to it, however, proved to be a challenge, because it was nothing more than a mattress on the floor and simply dropping Yamaguchi on it wasn’t an option (the drop was too far). So much for acting out a romantic comedy.

In the end Tsukishima set Yamaguchi down on his feet then sat, and Yamaguchi crawled into his lap.

“This is a little ridiculous,” he said, cupping Tsukishima’s face in his palms and giving a beautiful lopsided grin that most certainly doesn’t make Kei’s chest feel too tight. “You carrying me around your apartment shirtless, having to make sure angels aren’t spying on us, your really short bed.”

Tsukishima huffed a breath of laughter, hands coming to rest comfortably atop Yamaguchi’s shoulder blades. “I suppose it is.”

“That’s okay,” Yamaguchi hummed, pressing closer, “I like ridiculous.”

They kissed again, slower now, movements unhurried and languid. It was a careful drag of lips against lips, skin catching, tongues sliding lazily between them, a chance to feel and taste and experience, but then Yamaguchi’s hands were sliding down from Tsukishima’s face, down his shoulders, fingers warm where they trailed softly over the bared skin of his torso, small lines of tingling warmth in their wake. It was a small movement, but it lit Tsukishima up again, stoked the fire in his gut until their kiss was fast and sharp and he was biting at Yamaguchi’s lips and pulling impatiently at the man’s shirt.

Yamaguchi laughed against Kei’s mouth, but pulled back long enough to rip the piece of clothing over his head and toss it over his shoulder. He didn’t have time to lean back in for the kiss, Tsukishima was already mouthing at his shoulder, his collar bone, kissing the lines of his freckles as he’d done years ago and reciting the constellations in his head. His hands roamed Yamaguchi’s back, pressing against the slender line of his spine, tracing the small dimples above his ass and then sliding down inside his jeans, above his boxers and grabbing two handfuls of that wonderful, supple rear.

There was a little gasp from Yamaguchi as his hips stuttered forward, and Tsukishima pulled at him until he repeated the motion, a rolling, grinding thing that pressed Yamaguchi’s erection down into Kei’s. Even through two layers of pants the friction felt amazing, and Tadashi panted loudly into Tsukishima’s ear, his nails biting crescent shaped divots into the blonde’s shoulders.

“Oh,” he said, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with lust, only a slim ring of brown showing around them. “Oh.”

Tsukishima dropped back onto the bed suddenly, pulling Yamaguchi with him, breaking the rhythm they’d created but sending Tadashi into another small fit of giggles as he pushed himself up on to his hands and knees above Tsukishima.

“A little warning next time, Tsukki,” he murmured but Tsukishima just kissed him, working his hands out from under the other man’s jeans so that he could start to undo his own. It didn’t take long for Yamaguchi to work out what he was doing, and then he sat back on his knees and began to help, working first Tsukishima’s jeans and then his boxers down off his hips. Both pieces of clothing disappeared somewhere over the side the bed.

And then Yamaguchi was just staring, straddling Tsukishima’s thighs, gaze fixed intently on…well, on Kei’s cock. Long and pale, just like him, it curved up towards his belly out of a patch of thick blonde hair, the head a rosy pink and pre-cum just beginning to bead at the tip.

Not normally one to feel self conscious, Tsukishima could feel a blush rising up his neck anyways. He cleared his throat loudly, and Yamaguchi startled a little, jerking his gaze back up to meet Tsukishima’s. His face too was a bright red under the natural tan of his skin.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking abashed. “It’s just uh…really starting to sink in. I’ve never um, never…have, have you?”

“Not on Earth,” Tsukishima responded, and yeah okay he was starting to understand why Yamaguchi had thought all of this was so ridiculous. Just a little. “But we don’t have to go all the way or anything,” now that he thought about it, he didn’t even have the supplies for that, “there’s other stuff we can do.”  

Yamaguchi’s gaze flicked back down to Tsukishima’s cock and then up again, his cheeks flaring brighter. “Can I, um…?” he asked, making a vague gesture towards his mouth, and Kei felt his toes curl a little against the sheets.

“Be my guest,” he breathed, and couldn’t help the shaky little sigh when Yamaguchi tentatively placed one hand on his thigh, sliding it up until his thumb was brushing blonde hair and the base of Kei’s dick.

Ducking his head, Yamaguchi lowered his weight onto his belly, fitting himself between Tsukishima’s legs, the weight of his upper body balanced on his elbows against the blonde’s thighs. Warm fingers skirted up the length of Tsukishima’s cock, touch teasingly light before they wrapped loosely around it, all of the movements hesitant and unsure.

Tsukishima reached down and slid one hand along Yamaguchi’s face, pulling his chin up so that the man had to look at him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can back up, go slow.”

To his surprise, Yamaguchi shook the touch off, a nervous smile pulling at his mouth. “No, I want to.” For a moment he seemed to steal himself up, and then he leaned in, traced his lips from the base of Tsukishima’s dick all the way to the tip, and then pressed his tongue there, kitten lapping at beaded pre-cum.

Tsukishima’s breath stuttered in his chest, and that was _before_ Yamaguchi wrapped his kiss swollen lips around the head. Holy shit, he hadn’t given it much thought but yes, this body was a virgin and he was going to come in record time if he wasn’t careful. Yamaguchi’s mouth was almost painfully warm and small bolts of pleasure were already pooling low in Tsukishima’s stomach.

Moving slowly, Yamaguchi bobbed his head down, and it was obvious he was inexperienced by the faint scrap of teeth and the awkward position of his tongue. But he kept going, inch by inch, until his nose was pressed to Tsukishima’s abdomen and his mouth was pressed open so far saliva was gathered at the corners, sliding down his chin. With a small gasp he pulled back all in one go, a sudden, intense wave of pleasure blacking Tsukishima’s vision with the movement.

And then he was laughing, wiping the drool off his face. “Holy shit,” he said, face alight with discovery and excitement, “I can deep throat.” Tsukishima didn’t have time to respond (he would have needed a few minutes anyways, the first few to gather his wits about him and the second to marvel at the fact that mother of god neither of them had been capable of that before and it was fucking _hot_ ) because Yamaguchi was sliding down his length again, working his tongue this time and carefully laying his lips over his teeth so that they didn’t catch on sensitive skin, and then he was _swallowing_ around Tsukishima’s cock and Kei let out a string of curse words, his fingers knotting in the sheets at his sides.

Yamaguchi let out a little choking noise that may or may not have been him laughing at Tsukishima (it was hard to tell considering his mouth was full), and the blonde sat up, cupping the little jerk’s face in his palms and hauling him up into a filthy kiss. He could taste himself on his boyfriend’s tongue, and that shouldn’t have been hot but it was, and with a faint growl he bit hungrily at Yamaguchi’s jaw, moving until he could work the lobe of Tadashi’s ear between his teeth.

“Pants,” he said, voice low in Yamaguchi’s ear, “off.”

There was a brief flurry of movement as Yamaguchi scrambled to obey ( _likes to be told what to do,_ Tsukishima was definitely filing that away for future exploration) but then he was sitting wonderfully, beautifully naked in Tsukishima’s lap and he had all the time in the world to drink in the sight.

His eyes traced the familiar freckles, noting that every single one of them was accounted for, down to the one just to the left of the tip of his dick. Hair darker than Tsukishima’s, and curlier, sprouted at the base and wound a trail up towards his navel before tapering out, and though it looked like he might shave regularly it was particularly long at the moment. His dick itself was shorter than Tsukishima’s but wider, the head an angry red thanks to a denial of touch, and it jut out an angle from his…

Yamaguchi cleared his throat.

Okay, so maybe not all day. Tsukishima drew his gaze up to Yamaguchi’s blushing face, murmured “Beautiful,” as he leaned in to kiss him.

Yamaguchi melted against him, and the skin to skin contact, chest’s brushing, Yamaguchi’s thighs spread around Kei’s, was heavenly, made Tsukishima’s body spark with electricity everywhere they touched. Again, he laid back on the bed, though this time he did it slowly and held Yamaguchi to him as he did so, so that he wasn’t jostled by the drop.

“Here,” he said, turning them on their sides, still facing each other, “I have an idea.”

At Yamaguchi’s nod, Tsukishima moved away and positioned them face to crotch, so that he was no longer staring at pretty brown eyes hungry with lust, but a weeping cock, twitching where it lay against Yamaguchi’s thigh.

“I like this idea,” he hummed from down Tsukishima’s body, and leaned in to kiss little trails down Kei’s dick.

Not to be out done, Tsukishima took Yamaguchi’s in hand, marveling at the thick vein on the underside, the velvety soft foreskin, and licked experimentally at the slit. He was rewarded with a shaky moan and a moment’s break of concentration from Yamaguchi.

While Yamaguchi may have enthusiasm and absolutely zero gag reflex (just the thought made Tsukishima’s whole body light up like a Christmas tree) Tsukishima had more knowledge and experience, even if this body didn’t quite share it.

It was something of a competition after that, sucking, licking, biting crescents into thighs, trying to shake the other without coming undone themselves. Yamaguchi used his throat to best effect, bobbing repeatedly before swallowing, laving his tongue all the way, rinse and repeat until Tsukishima felt like he was burning up from the inside out, ready to burst at the slightest provocation. Kei used a series of techniques he’d learned in heaven, certain swipes with his tongue, certain rhythms, letting the hand he wasn’t laying on chart unexplored skin, knowing the faint petting was sure to bring Yamaguchi off in combination with the hollowing of Tsukishima’s cheeks.

In the end, Yamaguchi broke first, after a particularly hard suck on his cock, and Tsukishima’s fingers pulling gently but firmly on the hair of his happy trail, just below his navel. His back arched, a long, low moan echoing deep in his throat as his body went impossibly tight, muscles shaking with the force of his pleasure, and it was the humming vibration that hit Tsukishima, still in Yamaguchi’s mouth, and crested him right over the edge as well.

Tsukishima’s jaw was sore when he finally let Yamaguchi’s softening length slip from between his lips, and the unpleasant taste of cum sat heavy on his tongue. Yamaguchi seemed to be experiencing similar unpleasantries, as he groaned softly as he rolled onto his back, rubbing absently at his lips.

Gathering the strength in his still quivery muscles, warm with afterglow, Tsukishima pulled himself to his knees and then deposited himself right way up in the bed, pulling a fluffy pillow under his head. He felt content, sated, happy and whole in a way he hadn’t felt in…well, a little over twenty four years. His body thrummed, his mind was quiet, and with a little sigh Yamaguchi rolled into his arms, pressing his face adorably into Kei’s chest.

Then he was bursting into inappropriate but still helplessly cute giggles, one arm winding round Tsukishima’s waist to hold him close. “I can’t believe we just sixty nine-ed,” he laughed, “what are we, horny teenagers?”

Tsukishima felt a smile pull up at his lips. “Probably.”


	18. All About Us (Chapter Seventeen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All About Us by He Is We
> 
> _Don't know what's got into me, why I feel this way. Can we dance real slow? Can I hold you real close?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE AND THIS FIC AIN'T DEAD YET, BABY. 
> 
> Coughs, okay but seriously I'm not planning on abandoning this I just lost my motivation/inspiration there for a while. (Getting caught up in Teen Wolf again certainly didn't help.) So once again I'm going to try and get this bad boy done before school starts up again in a few weeks, and we'll see how far I get! Also, twenty-five chapters is kind of just a guestimate at this point. I'm not sure there's that much story left. 
> 
> Other than that, in the six months I've been working on other things, I'd like to think my writing has improved and evolved a little, so if the style is a tad different than it was before, that would be why. I'm trying to keep the tone and everything the same though, so it shouldn't be too much of a difference.

Tsukishima awoke slowly, soft light just barley brushing the backs of his eyelids.

There was no alarm going off, no voices in his head, just a gradual progression from unconsciousness into awareness; he was warm and content curled around the smaller body tucked up against him.

Yamaguchi was still peacefully asleep, expression lax in the thin strips of early morning light filtering between the blinds. For a long moment the angel simply watched him, taking in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips were parted just slightly, and felt that familiar warmth bloom anew in his chest.

He was immeasurably lucky to have this man here, in bed with him, sleeping over after a day spent tangled up together. They’d only fooled around the once, but the rest of their time had been spent painting, cuddling, and just generally enjoying the other’s presence.

It astounded Tsukishima a little sometimes, how easily his Carissime fit into his life. The angel hated touch, hated having his space encroached upon, liked solitude and peace and being allowed to live and work alone. But the moment Yamaguchi stepped through the door, he became the exception to every single one of those rules.

_“You’re being particularly sappy this morning,”_ Yachi said, thankfully in a soft near-whisper.

_Shut up,_ Tsukishima replied. There was no malice in it though, and he was almost positive his lips were tilted up in a small, warm smile that he didn’t care enough to try and get rid of.

_Anyone else with you this morning?_

_“I’m here too,”_  Daichi said. _“But only for an hour or so before I have to leave for my patrol.”_

_“I gotta leave soon too, you gonna be okay all by yourself?”_ Yachi asked with a small, amused laugh.

Tsukishima, not bothering to answer that ridiculous question, rolled his eyes and, moving very carefully, managed to extract himself from the bed without jostling or waking his boyfriend. It was quite the feat, and he took a moment to congratulate himself on it before going about his morning routine, sans the shower. He was dressed only in loose pajama bottoms, chest bare and proudly sporting the hickey Yamaguchi had left on him (they hadn’t slept together again, but they _had_ made out like teenagers) and he didn’t feel like going through the trouble of showering and then finding something else to wear.

_“Lazy day in?”_ Yachi asked, and when he made a mental affirmative noise she continued, _“You should make him breakfast in bed. It’d be really sweet.”_

Honestly, it wasn’t that bad of an idea. When he came out of the bathroom, he glanced at Yamaguchi’s prone form and felt himself smile again.

“Yeah,” he said out loud, voice hushed. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Daichi made a small noise that was something of a fond huff. _“He really mellows you out,”_ he commented, and Tsukishima gave a mental shrug of his shoulders as he left the room to dig around in his near-empty fridge and cabinets in hopes of finding something he could whip up. He wasn’t going to refute that Yamaguchi calmed him because he really did but he also didn’t feel like discussing it right now either.

Thankfully, Tsukishima was able to scrounge up a few eggs, some cheese (of the non-moldy variety), and bread that wasn’t actually stale. He made egg sandwiches, humming softly to himself as he cooked, before gathering them onto plates, making a couple glasses of milk, and then hauling it all into the bedroom (not on a serving platter, he doesn’t own one, sorry to break the stereotype).

Setting the food down, he knelt beside the bed and gently brushed Yamaguchi’s bangs off of his forehead, taking a moment to just _look_.

He’d probably never get his fill of looking at that face, but Tsukishima wasn’t about to let the food he’d cooked go cold, so he leaned down and brushed a kiss across the tip of his boyfriend’s nose.

“Yamaguchi,” he called, voice soft and intimate in the space between them. “C’mon baby, time to wake up.”

Watching Yamaguchi wake was fascinating; his body tensed minutely, eyes scrunching up a little bit before he went lose and limp, dark lashes fluttering open in increments. Those beautiful brown eyes regarded Tsukishima sleepily and without comprehension for a moment before recognition dawned and full lips pulled up into a smile.

“Morning,” Tsukishima said.

“Mornin’,” his boyfriend mumbled back.

Yamaguchi rolled away from him so he could sit up and stretch, arms over his head and back arching as he sighed and smacked his lips a little. For some reason, the sight made something uncomfortable twinge in Tsukishima’s gut for a second, but he ignored it in favor of picking up the plates he’d brought with him.

“I made breakfast.”

“Yeah?” Yamaguchi asked, dropping his arms and slouching out of his stretch.

They ended up eating together on the bed, plates and glasses balanced in their laps while Yamaguchi slowly woke up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and smiling blearily every time he caught Tsukishima looking at him. It was a nice, quiet affair, and Yamaguchi slumped against the angel when he was finished eating, nuzzling into his pale neck.

“Best boyfriend,” he sighed, and Tsukishima laughed lightly before slinging an arm over his shoulder and pulling him in close.

He’d only just managed to pry both of them out of bed and put the dirty dishes in the sink when Daichi and Yachi issued quiet goodbyes, telling him that Asahi and Shimizu were going to drop by to fill in for them in a few hours. He waved them off mentally, telling them to go do their damn jobs and quit distracting him when he had better things to be focusing on.

Like the warm pair of arms winding around his waist while he was washing the dishes and the brief kiss on his neck.

“Got any plans for today?” Yamaguchi asked, settling his chin on the angel’s bare shoulder.

Tsukishima hummed and resumed cleaning, warm water and soap suds clinging to his hands as he worked. “Not really. Why, got some place to be?”

“Yeah, actually,” his boyfriend answered apologetically. “I have to work tonight. It’s still pretty early though, I can hang out for a while still.”

“Where do you work?”

The laugh Yamaguchi let out was soft and warm where it was pressed into Tsukishima’s skin. “Just a 24/7 convenience store, nothing fancy. I always get stuck with the late shifts.”  

The angel wrinkled his nose in sympathy; Akiteru never had late shifts, thank god, but Tsukishima imagined they were rather long and boring and probably just a touch dangerous depending on where the store was located in town.

“What do you want to do in the meantime?” Tsukishima asked, rinsing off the last plate and placing it on the drying rack next to the sink. Without dislodging the arms around his waist, he turned around in Yamaguchi’s grip to face his boyfriend.

Yamaguchi was still sleep rumpled in his boxers and the too large t-shirt he’d borrowed from Tsukishima the night before, his hair in disarray and his smile sweet.

“Well, I figured maybe we could go to the museum together?”

The words sparked a memory in Tsukishima and he had to fight not to freeze. The art museum where Yamaguchi’s painting had hung; the painting he’d unconsciously done of Tsukishima’s angel form. It wouldn’t take a lot of jarring for the puzzle pieces to slip together in his boyfriend’s mind, for him to realize that for some reason he was connected to an angel in a larger sense than just dating one.

Of course, he did already know about the Omens…

“We could,” Tsukishima answered, eyes raking over Yamaguchi’s face as he spoke, and again felt that uncomfortable twist in his stomach, “if you wanted to. Is your painting still up?”

This time it was Yamaguchi freezing, and the angel could visibly see as a few of those pieces slotted themselves into place in his mind.

“No, it’s not,” his boyfriend replied eventually, gaze distant. “It was you though, wasn’t it, that I was painting?”

“Yeah.”

Slowly, Yamaguchi’s focus came back until he was looking at the angel in front of him once more, the corner of his mouth tilted up. “More of that whole ‘my soul is too awake’ thing? Seeing stuff I shouldn’t be?”

“Exactly,” Tsukishima said.

The answer seemed to amuse his boyfriend, who leaned in for a brief kiss before pulling away entirely. “Get dressed,” he admonished, pushing playfully at Tsukishima’s shoulder, “we’ll pick up lunch while we’re out.”

“You can borrow some clean clothes if you like,” Tsukishima offered, leading the way back to his bedroom. Yesterday Yamaguchi had seemed near affronted by the mess that was the angel’s closet, and for once he’d actually felt kind of embarrassed about it. They’d sat down on the floor for over an hour, going through his clean laundry and folding it, setting them aside in easy to access piles. As he picked out an outfit now, he could admit that it was a decent system and definitely a time saver.

Yamaguchi crouched down next to him on the closet floor. “I’ll take a t-shirt but wear my jeans from yesterday.”

The angel left him to his decision, trading out his pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans and a Henley he had picked out. He’d already brushed his teeth and hair, so he sat down to check his phone for notifications while Yamaguchi dressed.

He decided he really liked the look of his boyfriend wearing his clothes. The shirt he’d picked out was one of Tsukishima’s flannels, and it was large on him but not overly so, and seeing Yamaguchi in it gave the angel a sleek satisfaction that warmed his gut. Of course, this was immediately followed by a painful wrenching that made him want to cringe, and he turned his gaze away on automatic, the feeling fading almost immediately.

It was almost like…but, no. Couldn’t be.

If Yamaguchi noticed the flinch, he didn’t mention it. “You know, despite what I painted, I never really thought angels would have red wings,” he said instead, conversationally.

Tsukishima made a humming noise. “Not all of them do. It’s just my wing color. Each angle has a color that corresponds to their personality, and as they get older the colors fade to white. The classic human myth of angels with white wings come from the older angels.”

“Huh,” Yamaguchi said. “No halos then?”

Tsukishima couldn’t help his small smirk. “No halos.”

“Where did that myth come from then?” his boyfriend asked, doing up his jeans. Without waiting for an answer he padded into the bathroom, raising his voice to be heard as he went. “And what about harps? And clouds, do you guys sit on clouds?”

The angel snorted and flopped back on his bed, head angled towards the room Yamaguchi was in. “Definitely no clouds, harps are more a personal thing, some of the older angels play, it just kind of got passed around as a stereotype down here. And as for halos, I’m honestly not sure. Maybe the whole sun-behind-an-angelic-form got out of hand or something.”

He waited for more questions or some kind of sarcastic comment, but neither was forthcoming. The silence started to worry him after a couple of minutes and he pushed himself up on his elbows on the bed, calling, “Yamaguchi?”

“Tsukki?” came the trembling reply, his boyfriend’s voice surprisingly frail.

It had the angel leaping up and skidding into the bathroom before he could think, concern written on his features. “Yamaguchi?” he asked again, watching as his boyfriend stared at his own reflection, eyes wide and palms braced against the counter. “What’s wrong?”

Tsukishima knew the answer before he even opened his mouth, could feel it stomach, in his bones, and it made his heart sink like a stone in water.

Gaze lingering on the mirror even as he turned, Yamaguchi opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally meeting the angel’s gaze. His voice was quiet and confused when he spoke, tentative.

“An Omen…I can see an Omen on me.”


	19. Hold Each Other (Chapter Eighteen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Something happens when I hold him_  
>  _He keeps my heart from getting broken_  
>   
>  Hold Each Other by A Great Big World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eight months later and here I am again! Still not dead, but fair warning you might be after this chapter. Sorry!

“An Omen…I can see an Omen on me.”

Everything was…tense. That’s all Tsukishima could really say about it, nothing else fit.

His first reaction was to reach out along his mental connection, desperately needing his Division. He wasn’t the only defender after all, not the only one who knew how to deal with the Omens.

But despite twenty-four years of never being alone, of having absolutely zero privacy, there was nobody in his head but him.

He panicked.

Warm, slender fingers on his face pulled Tsukishima out of his spiraling thoughts, and he blinked quickly to try and focus his eyes on the man in front of him. Yamaguchi was holding Tsukishima’s face in his palms, dark eyes worried and concerned. After a moment he asked, “You alright? You spaced out on me there for a second.”

Tsukishima loved looking at his Carissime, he loved tracing those invisible lines from freckle to freckle, mapping the stars across a smooth night sky. But because of the Omen…well, looking at Yamaguchi for too long made him uncomfortable, made his gut clench and his mind revolt as it tried to tell him to look away.

He averted his gaze and felt like the lowest scumbag for it. But his sense of touch wasn’t affected, so he covered Yamaguchi’s hands in his own and pulled them off of his face, squeezing gently as they lowered between them, fingers naturally lacing together.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “I’m okay, I just…yeah, no I’m not okay.”

The features of Yamaguchi’s face were tight with tension, but he still tried for a little smile. “You and me both,” he tried to joke but then he sighed and dropped the act, fixing his gaze on the floor. “We need to talk about this.”

Unfortunately, it was true.

“Let me wait until I can contact the heads of my Division. I want their opinion on this,” Tsukishima said.  

There was no option of going about their morning while Tsukishima waited for someone to show up in his head though, no way to play at nonchalance. They ended up sitting at his little kitchen table silently, each lost in their own thoughts.

 _You guys didn’t get into a fight, did you?_ Shimizu chided when she appeared five minutes later. _That was…wait._

 _Is that?_ Asahi’s voice came next, a concerned question.

 _“An Omen?”_ Tsukishima snapped mentally. _“Yeah. How the fuck did you guys miss it, we were only alone for ten damn minutes.”_

 _It’s pretty faint, Tsukishima,_ Shimizu said apologetically. _If Yamaguchi saw it before now I’m honestly surprised. I can barely see it._

_“Just…go get Takeda and Ukai for me.”_

When all four angels were present and caught up, Tsukishima sighed and shifted in his seat. “Okay,” he said out loud, drawing Yamaguchi’s attention slowly to him as the man clearly fought his way out of his own thoughts.

“Hmmm?”

“They’re here,” _as here as they can be at least,_ “so they’ll try to help us.”

Yamaguchi’s cheeks puffed up as he blew out a long breath of air, obviously gathering himself. “Okay,” he said, and then again, “Okay. Let’s see if I’ve got this right. So I know Omens are bad signs right, that someone is going to die early? But you also said angels use them to protect people, like they keep an eye out and then save people before they get hit by a car or something.”

“That’s a good run down of it yeah,” Tsukishima agreed after a moment, nodding slowly.  

“Then that means you can protect me!” The words were rushed, excited, and Tsukishima flinched from them.

“I don’t know about that…”

Takeda sighed softly. _Don’t sell yourself short, you’re good at your job._

_“It’s not about that!”_

“It’s not about doubting myself and my skills,” Tsukishima continued at Yamaguchi’s confused expression. “I just know that the more emotional I am, the more difficult it is for me to do my job. I’m going to be really anxious, I’m _already_ really anxious. And that on top of my lower success rate ever since I started living as a human, well…I just think some back up would be a good idea.”

 _We can set a watch on him,_ Ukai offered.

Across from Tsukishima, Yamaguchi looked contemplative. “It’s not a bad idea. But what am I going to be doing while your Division is protecting me?”

“You’re going to stay here,” was Tsukishima’s immediate response. But he could tell already, just by knowing Yamaguchi, and knowing the way he suddenly set his shoulders, that his boyfriend wasn’t on board with that particular plan of action. So he hurried on before Yamaguchi could argue with him. “It’d be the safest option, we just wait until the Omen fades away and then you’ll be all good to go!”

 _Tsukishima,_ Asahi murmured, and Shimizu picked up where he left off. _You know that’s not how Omens work, you better than anyone else._

Yamaguchi’s nose scrunched up adorably, but it didn’t cause the same fluttering in Tsukishima’s stomach that it used to, all happiness and warm light. Now it just made him queasy and he fixed his eyes on the spot just over his boyfriend’s shoulder he’d been staring at for most of the conversation.

“I thought the whole point of having protection was so I could live normally! Besides, do Omens even fade away? How long does it take?”

Called out on his bluff, Tsukishima ducked his head. “They don’t,” he admitted rather begrudgingly. “But it’d be easier to protect you if you’re just here in the apartment! And the only reason we’ve never seen one fade before is because we’ve never had the opportunity to watch what would happen if the person it attached to stayed out of all harm’s way.”

 _Because you can’t,_ Ukai grumbled, obviously displeased. _The world isn’t a vacuum, and as much as you want to remove him from any danger, it’s just not physically possible._

Damnit, they were making sense…but still, Tsukishima’s hind brain wasn’t having it, roaring that he needed to bundle Yamaguchi away, protect him from the world at all costs.

“Look,” Yamaguchi said gently. “I’ll have you and your Division to keep an eye on me, right? That's more than most people have. Isn’t it better to just go about my day normally, that way when you swoop in and save me the Omen is gone once and for all? If I just stay tucked away, it’ll stick around for longer, that’s how it works isn’t it? Like, it’s not foretelling a specific event, more that one way or another the universe is gonna try and kill me. If I stay here it could just bring the whole apartment complex down on our heads, and then where would we be?”

 _Well that’s a theory I’ve never heard before,_ Takeda mused

 _“It’s not his fault he doesn’t know everything is practically pre-destined,”_ Tsukishima snapped, and then out loud said, “That’s not exactly how it works, but it’s close enough I guess.”

Yamaguchi leaned back in his chair with a little triumphant grin on his lips, fear hidden only in the faint crinkles around his eyes. “It’s settled then,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll live like everything’s normal-“

Yeah, like they’d managed that so well this morning.

“-and the Omen will clear up once this life threatening event passes.”

It wasn’t that simple, it couldn’t be. Tsukishima crossed his own arms over his chest, but his gesture was self defensive where his boyfriend’s had been casual. He found himself muttering, “Even angels are capable of making mistakes,” practically under his breath.

“What?”

Tsukishima sighed and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

oOo

Despite what Yamaguchi said, it _wasn’t_ easy to just live normally. Tsukishima was tense and quiet all day, anxious beyond belief but feeling completely helpless against it.

His boyfriend tried, he really did, but Yamaguchi avoided mirrors and other reflective surfaces as best he could, and when he did happen to see himself he always froze for a terrifying millisecond before he pulled himself together. Afterwards, he talked too loudly, gestured too widely, trying to make up for the lapse.

Trying to pretend was honestly worse than just accepting it. But accepting it meant creeping around in fear, and Yamaguchi seemed adamant that he wouldn’t do that.

Tsukishima did it anyways, if not externally than at least in his own head.

At the end of the day, Tsukishima walked Yamaguchi back to his apartment, waited for him to shower and change, and then walked him to work too for good measure.

Yamaguchi grinned outside the door and gave him a quick kiss goodbye, his cheeks flushed pink both from the cold and from embarrassment, and then disappeared inside the convenience store. Rather than linger like he wanted to, Tsukishima forced himself to head home. Daichi and Ennoshita were set to watch his boyfriend for most of the night. He’d be just fine.

The thought didn’t help Tsukishima sleep any when he finally did make it home, and he ended up tossing and turning until the early hours of morning when Yamaguchi showed up and came in with the spare key. It had been the only way Tsukishima could bring himself to let Yamaguchi go to work, having his boyfriend promise to come straight to Tsukishima’s apartment instead of going back to his own.

Yamaguchi stripped down and crawled between the sheets. He rolled into Tsukishima’s waiting arms with a small noise of contentment and they both fell asleep almost immediately.

 When Tsukishima awoke later the next morning, it was to find Yamaguchi sitting on top of him with a broad grin that seemed more natural than the one the night before.

“Let’s go ice skating!” he said.

Tsukishima groaned and wished he could roll over and bury his face in his pillow. Looking at his boyfriend was even worse today, he felt physically nauseas and had to close both his eyes and mouth tight before he could grit out an emphatic, “No. Absolutely not.”

He felt Yamaguchi shift his weight, leaning further over Tsukishima to bring their faces close together. “Aw, come on! It’s not that dangerous.”

“It’s really fucking dangerous.” Images of cracking ice, of Yamaguchi’s face sinking below freezing water filtered through Tsukishima’s mind and he shuddered but still didn’t open his eyes. “Please get off of me.

Yamaguchi’s weight slid away. “What’s wrong? You look really pale.”

As soon as he wasn’t pinned, Tsukishima rolled out of bed and rushed for the bathroom. He ended up standing over the sink and gagging for a good several minutes, trying desperately to keep the contents of his stomach where they fucking belonged.

It was Yamaguchi’s turn to called Tsukishima’s name worriedly into the bathroom.

On instinct, Tsukishima responded by turning his head to look at his boyfriend standing uncertainly in the doorway, and then instantly had to turn back around and start his fight anew.

“Sorry,” he managed between heaves. A warm hand settled between his shoulder blades, rubbing soothingly as Yamaguchi leaned a warm line against his side. At least his touch still brought the familiar rush of good feelings.

Paired with Yachi murmuring comfortingly in his mind, he managed to calm his roiling stomach and the tight muscles along his throat.

“Are you one of those people who gets sick from being stressed?” his boyfriend asked when Tsukishima was just standing staring blankly down into the sink, hands gripping the sides and elbows locked straight.

Tsukishima shook his head but still didn’t look up. “No, that’s not it. It’s just, I told you before that I can’t see Omens anymore right?”

He felt Yamaguchi’s weight shift next to him, like he had decided to lean his hip against the bathroom counter. “I think you mentioned something like that once, yeah.”

“How do you think I’m able to find them in order to do my job?”

There was silence as Yamaguchi parsed that one out, and when he came to a conclusion he jumped away from Tsukishima like he’d been burned. “They make you sick!?” he cried, sounding a mixture of angry and concerned.

Tsukishima finally let go of the sink, straightening up and dragging his porcelain cool hands over his face. “Not exactly.  It’s more like they’re just uncomfortable to look at, like my stomach kind of cramps a little and stuff. But the stronger they are, the stronger my reaction.”

 _His Omen is already really dark, Tsukishima,_ Hinata threw in, the other angel apparently on duty. Yachi added in a soft, upset voice, _I can barely see him through it._

_“Fuck.”_

“So mine is bad enough that you can’t look at me.” Flat, slightly hurt. Tsukishima cringed.

“I’m sorry, I-“

Yamaguchi jumped in again quickly, “No no no! That’s not what I meant. I’m not upset with you, I’m just upset about this whole situation. It kinda sucks knowing my boyfriend will get sick just by looking at me, you know?” He gave a self deprecating laugh, and Tsukishima couldn’t help glancing up at him for a brief second, just long enough to pinpoint where he was so Tsukishima could wrap him up in a hug, pulling the other man close in to his chest.

Instantly Yamaguchi was hugging him back, clinging tightly. Into Tsukishima’s shoulder he said, “It’ll be alright, okay? We’ll get through this.”

 _He’s right,_ Yachi agreed, and the rest of the angels gave small noises of consent. But then Ukai had to break the moment.

_Just be careful. The Omen is so dark it’s gotta be something big, and it’s going to happen soon._

Their embrace was broken when Yamaguchi’s stomach growled rather loudly. He pulled back with a self conscious laugh, scratching at the back of his neck and ducking his head.

“We should probably find something to eat.”

Tsukishima bumped his shoulder lightly as he moved past Yamaguchi out of the bathroom. “We pretty much ate everything I had here, so we’re going to have to go out.”

Not that he really wanted to, he wanted to stay locked up here forever but…

He didn’t even have to be looking at Yamaguchi to know the man had lit up happily, eyes aglow. “That sounds good! I’m kind of sick of delivery. Oh, you know what? We could just walk to the supermarket and get some stuff to cook. Today feels like a cooking kind of day.”

They weren’t completely on even ground again, Tsukishima could barely stand to look at his boyfriend after all, but they’re were making plans, getting dressed and ready to head out together. Domestic. Relaxed. If only. 

When they left, Tsukishima had to pause in order to lock the front door, and Yamaguchi leaned back against the balcony railing, gently jabbing at his boyfriend to hurry up. Tsukishima cast a quick glare over his shoulder before finishing what he was doing. They walked down the stairs together side by side, bumping shoulder every other step.

There was a small grocery store only a few blocks away, and they walked together, forcing other people on the sidewalk to move around them, like water around stones. It was mostly relaxed but there was an undercurrent of tension present and Tsukishima tried to keep his eyes open, tried to put himself between Yamaguchi and any potential disasters.

But nothing happened. It was a peaceful trip. Except on the way back, they got into a minor argument about whether or not Tsukishima could continue to call in to work. He’d done it for that day, and Yamaguchi was adamant he not do it again.

“I don’t need your protection 24/7!” he fumed as he stomped his way back upstairs. He was a few steps above Tsukishima, not looking back as he spoke. “You said it yourself, your Division is keeping an eye out for me and I’m not going to let you go bankrupt just because you want to be glued to my side.”

They paused outside the front door, Yamaguchi leaning against the railing again with two handfuls of bags at his feet while he waited for Tsukishima. The blonde kept his gaze away, moodily setting his own bags down so he could get his keys out.

“I can miss a few days without going bankrupt, alright? I’ve got some savings put away.”

There was a snort from behind him. “Yeah, I can tell by your apartment, you’re loaded.”

Tsukishima had to grit his teeth together to keep from gnashing them. “Just let me do this!” he angrily snarled at the door.

 _Tsukishima,_ Yachi said, trying to catch his attention, and then again louder, _Tsukishima!_

Then all four angels at once, _TSUKISHIMA!_

Distantly he heard a small _snap_ , a _pop_ , a _creak_ , and his gut was swooping with fear and anxiety and adrenaline. He whirled around, one hand already reaching as the railing gave way beneath Yamaguchi’s weight. Big beautiful brown eyes went wide with surprise as the man tried to grapple for purchase, but he’d been leaning too far and he started to fall backwards, gaze on Tsukishima the entire time.

It happened in slow motion, the world ringing so loudly in Tsukishima’s ears he couldn’t hear anything but his own ragged breath, his cry of, “Yamaguchi!” as his fingers brushed short, slender ones that were more familiar to him than his own. His grip closed on thin air.

Then everything came rushing back into proper speed. There was a short cry, a _thump!_ and all was silent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll update sooner this time!! No more eight month waits, okay? If you gotta cry about this chapter though, come message me on my [tumblr](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/) and we can cry together.


	20. You (Chapter Nineteen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mourn with the moon and the stars up above_
> 
> You by Keaton Henson aka one of the saddest songs in existence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...here we are again. With another angsty update. But no fear, the tags say this fic is fluffy and I promise we'll be getting back to that! I think there's only one or two chapters left in this bad boy so we're very close to the end now. Thank you to everyone who has been following it since I started in 2014! You're very patient lmao

Tsukishima surfaced a week later.

He was lying on his back, his mattress beneath him, the dull, uninteresting ceiling of his apartment above him. It was dark, or at least the light was dying as it shifted through his blinds, highlighting motes of dust that drifted lazily, listlessly. He felt the way they looked, weightless and barely moving, no direction, no intent. Lying prone and weary, his body was exhausted, his mind hazy.

It wasn’t silent, the city still lived beyond his four walls. For all Tsukishima heard he might as well have been the last person on earth though, such was the stillness within. He blinked slowly, and it felt like a herculean effort just to force that tiny, thoughtless twitch. It didn’t help the sandy feeling of his eyes, so he just closed them all together and was too tired to do much else.

The next time he awoke, the light was that of a sunrise. Early, but not despicably so.

Tsukishima was more awake this time, more conscious as he sat up in bed and glanced around. Silent and still, no carrying voices from the neighbors or footsteps from the people above. If he listened closely he could hear the sounds of the street below but they were distant, meaningless.

He ran uncooperative fingers along his jaw and winced a little at the growth of stubble he found there (a purely human phenomenon, angels didn’t grow any hair they didn’t want). A glance down revealed his t-shirt and pajama bottoms to be wrinkled and dirty, stained with sweat under his arms and around his collar. But they weren’t the jeans and long-sleeved shirt he remembered wearing last, so he must have changed at some point in the interminable time between now and…then.

His mind shied away from the thought the way a child pulls a blanket over their face to hide from monsters.

Rather than face what he obviously didn’t want to, Tsukishima stood slowly and groaned at the creak of his body, everything screaming from disuse. A shower was definitely in order, as hot as he could make it to get all his muscles to unlock, his joints to loosen up.

It took him forever to get to the bathroom, and even longer to get under the spray of water once it was warm enough. It wasn’t just his body that felt atrophied, his mind was also rebelling. There was something wrong, he knew that, knew it in the marrow of his bones. But he couldn’t tell what exactly because his mind was a fog filled forest, unwilling to be navigated with confusing shadows that rose and fell around him, but never emerged from behind their misty shrouds.

The shower did help a little bit, at least in the physical sense. It took Tsukishima an entire hour to finally feel clean again, but when he stepped out his body felt lighter, more easy to control than when he’d woken up. He stood in front of the mirror and again ran his fingers over the pale blonde stubble on his jaw. It made him look old and ragged, his cheeks hollow, deep bruises under his eyes.

With half his mind on the task, his soaped up his face and shaved, slowly and meticulously. Until the reflection showed a tired youth rather than a man who looked like he’d given up on life.

It was somewhere during this time that Tsukishima finally realized exactly why everything sound so _quiet_.

He was alone, utterly and completely. There were no voices in his head, no comforting presences at his side, barely there but still felt. In fact, he couldn’t feel his Division at all.

He finished shaving, washing excess soap off his skin and then staring intently into the mirror’s golden eyes, both familiar and not. When he tried reaching for his Division he encountered a mental wall, thick and impenetrable with dark, jagged edges and patchwork bricks. It was fierce and huge and intimidating, and when he laid a flat palm against it a wave of grief so potent that it shook him to his very core washed over him. This wall was built with nothing but pain, misery.

Gasping, Tsukishima forcefully pulled himself away and back into the present. He was bent over the bathroom counter, entire body trembling and tears trailing slowly down his cheeks. His knees promptly gave out on him and he slid to the floor with little grace and no care for where he fell.

It took a good twenty minutes for him to get a hold of himself again, to stem the tears and stop his body from shaking. It didn’t help the sick, nauseous roll of his stomach and vaguely he wondered when the last time he’d eaten was.

By the time he finally stood up again, it was approaching noon. His mind was also slightly clearer, the fog lifting enough that he could see the outlines of trees through it, but that was all. Still something lurked, something large and unpleasant, and he knew he’d have to face it eventually.

But he didn’t know how to go about facing it. That wall wasn’t going to just come down on a whim, and he didn’t know how he’d even built it in the first place. Obviously some seriously strong emotion had been involved, but where that emotion stemmed from was lost to him.

Still a little shaky, he left his bathroom.  

In his kitchen there were several bags of groceries thrown haphazardly on the tiled floor. Their contents were spilled out of the plastic, discarded and forgotten about. The frozen things had long since spoiled, the milk curdled and bad, and Tsukishima was forced to pick his way through the mess and throw out all the perishables. By the time he was done he still didn’t feel up for food, so he just made himself some chai tea he’d found in one of the bags, and sat on the counter sipping it.

There was a canvas on the kitchen table.

It was face down, and Tsukishima stared curiously at it from where he sat.

He didn’t paint, he knew he didn’t paint with absolute certainty but still, there it sat. A few feet away a collapsed easel was leaned against the wall. When curiosity got the better of him, Tsukishima went over and flipped the canvas, staring down at the smudged lines and blurred colors.

It took him a moment, but he realized the picture was of him. He was sitting in this very kitchen, chin in his palm, gaze distant, sunlight making his features appear ethereal, holy.

His grieving mental wall trembled, and Tsukishima quickly flipped the canvas over so he couldn’t see it anymore. But he could picture it in his mind’s eye, and right beside it a larger, more vibrant canvas hung upon a wall full of blank spots, because he couldn’t be bothered to remember anything but that one. Red wings, blonde hair, a sunset. Again, a painting of him.

The artist…there was a funeral. It was going to happen soon, arranged by distant parents who weren’t even going to come to town until the day of, and then leave again right after. Tsukishima hadn’t been planning on going himself; he wasn’t certain he’d even been invited.

He went back to his tea. Left too long on the counter top, it was luke-warm and unappetizing so he poured what was left down the drain and then stared for a long moment at the splashes of brown against silver in his sink. His brain was shifting, moving. That thing in the mist was looming closer and suddenly Tsukishima wasn’t sure he even _wanted_ to face it.

When he went back to his bedroom, he was no longer given a choice. There was a t-shirt on the bed, wrinkled like it’d been gripped by strong hands, held close without letting go. It wasn’t his, too small but…

Blood.

Blood on concrete. Twisted metal snapping, a roar of silence in his ears, a quiet _thump_ that shattered the world.

Tsukishima tried to push himself away from the thoughts, from the dark mass in the fog because it _hurt_. The pain was so intense he thought he might scream, claws tearing through him without mercy, molten hot that was followed by an icy cold. He fell to his knees, fingers scrabbling at his chest like could rip the pain free that way, lips locked tight against the distraught sounds that wanted to slip out. Eyes wide, afraid, unseeing.

But he couldn’t get away, the thoughts clung to him, whispering quietly in his ears a single name. 

_Yamaguchi._

Fuck. God, oh god _Yamaguchi._

His surroundings dimmed and then disappeared entirely, completely unimportant. It was like he was being transported back in time, standing on the balcony outside his apartment, feeling soft fingers brush against his own before they were pulled forever out of his reach.

He remembered yelling, remembered throwing himself forward in an attempt to catch his Carissime and falling to his hands and knees. Crawling forward, peering over the edge only to be met with silence and blood. Blood, staining the concrete as it spread slowly around the broken body it bled from.

Yamaguchi’s lovely brown eyes had still been open, mouth slightly agape like he’d been trying to speak, to call Tsukishima’s name the way the angel had called his.

A scream, a woman coming out of her apartment on the first floor startled by the terrible sight. She’d called the police, and when they had arrived Tsukishima had numbly answered their questions.

Dead on impact, the paramedics had said. They’d wrapped Yamaguchi’s body up, and then they’d wrapped Tsukishima in an orange shock blanket and told him he needed to go to the hospital. For the shock, they’d said. Potential mental breakdown.

He’d refused.

Gone up to his apartment, locked the door, showered, and then crawled into bed with one of Yamaguchi’s shirts pressed to his face. The following week was a blur, but he must have moved, taken care of himself at least a little. He would have died otherwise.

Somebody must have contacted him about the funeral too he realized. But he still had no desire to go and stand amongst strangers, mourning the single most important person in his entire existence.

He also must have built the wall. He could remember, vaguely and in little snatches, the angels talking to him. Trying to help him pull himself together when all he wanted to do was lay down and never get up again. His desire to block them out had been so strong he’d constructed a wall between himself and them out of nothing but his own grief.

Twenty-four years spent looking. And he’d only had Yamaguchi for a few short weeks before Tsukishima had royally fucked it up.

It wasn’t even like it had been Yamaguchi’s time to go. The Omen was proof enough of that, and Tsukishima’s job, his _one job_ up in heaven had been to seek those Omens out and protect people from whatever tragedy was about to befall them. He’d been doing well enough, here on earth. But he still hadn’t been able to protect Yamaguchi, not even knowing the Omen was there, not even hearing his Division’s voices in his ears, not even reaching for those familiar fingers as they slipped between his own.

He’d failed.

His Carissime, finally found, and he hadn’t been able to save him.

It was the second time that day Tsukishima had spaced out, pulled into the murky depths of his own thoughts. He breached the water feeling like his lungs were burning as he gasped in breath, and he found night had fallen in his absence. His bedroom was dark and quiet around him, empty, depressing. The streetlights on the street outside marred the darkness in the form of thick, orange stripes that fell across his floor and mattress, and the only sound was his labored breathing.

His back was against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. There were faint tremors in his hands when he lifted them, but unlike earlier he no longer felt the ache in his bones. Instead he was numb and heavy, like his entire body had fallen asleep. When he glanced at his palms he found five perfect crescents in each one, bleeding sluggishly, and he couldn’t feel those either. It wasn’t much of an improvement.

His head thumped back against the wall.

He could climb back into his bed. He could get up and make something to eat, take care of his hands. He could even go out and walk the city.

Tsukishima didn’t do any of those things. He closed his eyes.

In his mind, he approached the wall, foreboding and shadowed. He had thought maybe it would be stronger now, after reliving those memories, but instead he found it with spider web cracks throughout. Tiny, thin things. It might be just his imagination but he swore he could feel a breeze drifting through them, soft and sweet.

Should he tear it down? Could he even if he wanted to?

He’d put it up in the first place to isolate himself but…he didn’t want to be alone anymore. He was weary and hurting, and the longer he was here on earth the worse it was going to get.

This time when he laid a hand against the wall, he wasn’t bowled over by grief. It still pulsed through him, overwhelmingly powerful, but he held out. And the longer he stood there, the more the wall began to tremble under his fingers.

It took a long time, he wasn’t sure how long he sat there feeling the coarse bricks against his skin, long enough for the sun to rise in his bedroom again, but eventually the thing began to crumble little by little. It was a soundless process, pieces of it eroding into dust or simply disappearing, until there was nothing left.

Almost immediately he was surrounded by warmth, but he was too exhausted to appreciate it.

Somebody was speaking to him, low and comforting, but Tsukishima was only able to catch a single word before he drifted into unconsciousness.

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/)!


	21. Love is Mystical (Chapter Twenty)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Light in darkness will show you the way, Give you the power to believe again_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Love is Mystical by Cold War Kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it y'all. The end. The last chapter. As such it's a little longer than others, about 3.7k in total. 
> 
> I really don't know how to feel about this ending?? I'm both sad about it and also super excited. But it's also been a while since I've worked on this fic so like, let me know if the ending even meshes well with the rest of it. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe I need an epilogue. Who knows. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm planning a kind of after-party type thing where I make an 8track playlist using all the songs from the chapters, and write y'all some little 'happily ever after' tidbits so stick around for that. Probably upload it tonight after I get off work.

Warm sun and leaf litter. A soft breeze rustled the grass around him, his face pressed almost uncomfortably against the dirt. His wings stirred behind him, the sound of feathers against feathers almost imperceptible amongst the droning of insects and the call of birds.

Tsukishima groaned, pushing himself up to his knees, then froze.

Because his wings. His _wings._

His gaze snapped up and around, quickly taking in the landscape around him. This was where he’d left from, so long ago, where he and Daichi had performed the grooming ritual. A little used backyard of heaven, tucked amongst starry skies and big cities where the sun never rose, dreamy utopias for souls to spend the rest of eternity.

Slowly, Tsukishima stood, flexing his body as he went. It was…strange. Stronger, taller, thicker than his human one had been. And his wings, of course. He flared them wide, the flash of red at the edges of his vision so familiar and comforting he almost wanted to tear up. Curling them carefully around his shoulders, he ran his fingers through the vibrant feathers.

_Welcome home._

A voice, neither deep nor high, simply resonant. Tsukishima closed his eyes and took a moment to bask in the warmth and love radiating from his mind. Then he took a moment to appreciate the fact that his Division would never again inhabit his mind, like some kind of radio talk show.

Speaking of…

“You’re back!”

Ah, there they are.

Tsukishima lowered his wings and turned, taking in the happy, beaming faces of his Division as they approached, several of them still landing in the soft grass. Daichi, Suga, Hinata, even Ukai and Takeda had showed up. Everyone, all together, the younger ones already chattering, Hinata bouncing amongst the taller members, Tanaka looking close to attempting a flying hug.

It was good, of course it was good, but...as happy as he was to be here, as glad as he was to be back, there was still a reason for it. And it was sinking in again, just how badly he had failed. How much he had fucked up.

His Carissime’s life cut woefully short, long before his time, while Tsukishima had stood by twiddling his fucking thumbs.

The clearing had gone silent. He’s not sure when it had happened, but the entire Division had quieted, gone still, watching him.

He frowned. “What?”

“You look…” Noya started, then stopped.

“Terrible?” Asahi filled in rather nervously.

“Like someone just kicked your puppy and then laughed about it,” Tanaka finished.

Noya was already shaking his head though. “No, they set his puppy on fire. Seriously, you look like shit, Tsukishima.”

At least Daichi and Suga seemed rather apologetic for the rest of them, but even Suga just kind of shrugged his shoulders like it was true and didn’t try to step in.

Tsukishima glowered at them all. He was tempted to snap at his Division, say something about how he’d just let the most important person in his entire existence _die_ , had watched it with his own two eyes, had seen the blood pool and heard the horrendous crack of bone hitting concrete. But it was too raw, too fresh. They were his Division, his friends, but he wasn’t ready to share any of that out loud with them yet. Maybe ever. 

Instead he just glared, and that seemed to break whatever concerned spell had fallen over them. The more energetic ones rushed forward, swooping in to hug him before he could do more than take in a sharp breath and raise his arms in self-defense. They were there and gone in a flash, backing off so quickly he was sure someone older and more in charge had had a hand in telling them to keep it brief. He wanted to be pissed about that too but mostly Tsukishima was just grateful.

There was only one person he really wanted that close.

His stomach churned uncomfortably at the reminder that yes, Yamaguchi was here. He was somewhere in heaven and all it would take was a single thought for Tsukishima to know the exact location. It wouldn’t take long to fly there, he could be seeing his Carissime in five minutes or less.

But he couldn’t.

Yamaguchi was probably pissed. If it were Tsukishima in his place, he would be. Tsukishima had _let him die_. And not like in a passive, not there kind of way either. Tsukishima had been right in fucking front of him, had felt those fingers slip through his with such ease.

Yeah, Yamaguchi probably never wanted to see him ever again. And that was fair.

Except Tsukishima knew Yamaguchi would never hold that grudge. He simply wasn’t that kind of person.

A hand on his shoulder brought Tsukishima’s thoughts tumbling back to the present. He blinked rather owlishly at Ukai who dropped his hand but was raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

Tsukishima shrugged, but that just caused both of Ukai’s eyebrows to shoot up.

“Isn’t there someone you should be going to see?”

“I-“ he started, stopped, heaved a sigh.

“We’re glad you’re back, of course,” Takeda offered from beside Ukai. “We couldn’t wait for you to come home to us, but we’ve said our hellos and now I think there’s someone else who wants to see you even more.”

“We almost brought him with us,” Kageyama commented from somewhere amongst the crowd of the Division. Tsukishima thought he could maybe see a crown of dark hair somewhere, but there were too many excited, bristling feathers blocking the view.

“Yeah, in case you ran away!” Hinata added.

“I wouldn’t-“ he started to protest, but Shimizu gave him a quiet, quelling look.

“You would,” she stated simply, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “But we decided to let you do it on your own terms instead. Now go, he’s in that little secret spot of yours.”

Secret…goddamnit. That meant two things. One, Tsukishima’s favorite place in all of heaven (before he started hanging out with Yamaguchi when he was still uncreated) had been discovered. And two, his Division had apparently been talking to Yamaguchi while Tsukishima wasn’t here, otherwise how would Yamaguchi know about it? Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Your secrets are our secrets!” Noya chirped enthusiastically. Asahi put a hand over his mouth, but Tsukishima could still see the wide, manic grin. That would be who had followed them, then.

One of these days he’ll get his revenge.

For a moment, Tsukishima actually considered running away though. Or just insisting on going home with his Division. Angels didn’t exactly have homes with kitchens and bathrooms like humans did, not having physical needs, but they did live together in large blocky structures with communal areas and separate rooms for individual nests. Sleeping wasn’t a physical mandate either, but it still felt restorative and peaceful to most. After being mostly human for so long, Tsukishima could even claim he was tired and needed a nap before undertaking something so serious and important.

But strangely, despite his fear, he didn’t want to run away. He wanted to see Yamaguchi, even if Yamaguchi hated him now. Or at the very least wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Who wanted to be around an angel that couldn’t even do their damn job properly?

Yamaguchi, probably. He was so sweet, it would be right up his alley to forgive Tsukishima completely.

“Yeah, whatever, I’m going,” he finally said out loud to the eager, waiting faces gathered around him. Several cheers went up, though he wasn’t sure from who exactly, and Ukai patted him on the shoulder again.

“He’s been moping ever since we figured out you weren’t coming straight back. Hurry up.”

Shit, how long had it even been since Yamaguchi’s death? Three, four days, a week? It didn’t matter.

“Don’t follow me,” he warned everyone, but glared specifically at Noya. It only made the smaller angel grin, but Tsukishima wasn’t exactly expecting to intimidate him. Taking a few steps back from the group, he shook out his wings, taking a moment to quietly delight in the sensation again.

The Division all backed away from him, expecting the strong gust of wind from the first flap of his wings. The grass bent and hair was ruffled as he jumped and flapped again, catching air this time and hovering for a beat before he propelled himself upwards and into the blue, blue sky.

oOo

Heaven was large, and mysterious, and not even the angels understood exactly how it worked. Different planes of ‘paradise’ appeared and disappeared constantly as souls dreampt them up, little patches of happiness to spend eternity. Souls could move between them, often did in order to find long lost loved ones, but generally they picked a place and settled down to stay. Plenty of angels were charged with flitting between these planes to ensure that they were stable and running properly, but Tsukishima wasn’t one of those angels. His job was down on Earth, watching for Omens. But he’d still explored plenty of the planes, still folded his wings to his back and walked along streets and forest paths and along bright, sandy beaches.

Out of everything, every plane, he had a favorite little place where he could get away from his Division and unwind. When the other angels’ voices got too grating, when Earth was too vast and loud.

The plane was probably modeled after France. The sun came and went whenever it felt like it, but most of the time the little cobblestone street was bathed in starlight. The moon was always full, huge and luminous in the sky, so close Tsukishima often wondered if he could fly up and touch it.

He never tried. Maybe he should.

At the end of the small shop-front street, each store strung up with warm, glowing lights, there was a tiny café. They served warm coffee that Tsukishima didn’t drink, but held between his hands, the hot ceramic calm and comforting against his skin. The café had little metal tables set outside which was where he usually went, staring up at the moon or watching couples stroll past hand in hand. Sometimes the café would have little dessert plates and he’d buy one or two and eat strawberry shortcake while he allowed his thoughts to calm and his mind to settle.

It was soft, peaceful. A reprieve from a busy, hectic life.

Yamaguchi was sitting at one of the tables. The moon hung boldly in the sky behind him, lighting his hair to a glowing silver, his skin to a creamy paleness that reminded Tsukishima inevitably of their date in the park. Holding hands. Warm coffee. A soft kiss. Constellations spread across skin.

He wasn’t looking up. There was a pad of paper in front of him, his pencil smoothing across it in long, sweeping lines. Whatever he was drawing held all of his attention, eyes rapt, tongue stuck between his teeth as he concentrated. His hair was long, much longer than Tsukishima remembered it, and his freckles were darkly visible even from a distance.

Tsukishima cleared his throat from the other side of the table. His hand hovered over the metal chair, ready to pull it out and sit down but suddenly wondering if he would be at all welcome.

Yamaguchi startled a little, then glanced up, his mouth falling open as he caught sight of Tsukishima. There was a tense silence, neither of them saying anything, then Yamaguchi abruptly shut his mouth with an audible clack. He swallowed visibly, then muttered, “Goddamn,” mostly to himself.

And really absolutely none of this was helping with Tsukishima’s nerves. Was Yamaguchi pissed or wasn’t he?

But he just kind of gestured at the chair, still looking rather shell shocked. At least if he was raging mad he wouldn’t be inviting Tsukishima to sit down, so Tsukishima did.

Silence. Then Yamaguchi was shaking his head, a crooked smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Sorry,” he said, sounding sincere and a little embarrassed. “You just…you look really good. Uh, kind of amazing actually.”

Well, that wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Normally Tsukishima would take the chance and maybe tease his Carissime a little but…well, he was in a similar situation. It was just so _good_ to see him whole again, moving, laughing, smiling. The swell of emotion in Tsukishima’s chest was leaving him a little breathless.

“And your wings!” The exclamation drew Tsukishima away from where he’d zeroed in on Yamaguchi’s face, lost in how simply _alive_ he looked.

Maybe preening a bit, Tsukishima fluttered the wings at his back, unfolding them just a tad so that they flared away from his sides. They were so large they were always visible over top of his shoulders, but he could keep them tucked in tight against his body to prevent them from knocking into anyone, or thing.

Yamaguchi looked absolutely delighted by them. “They’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

And that was a little startling. “Do you…remember?” Tsukishima asked, suddenly curious. “Before, that is.”

Luckily, his Carissime seemed to understand the halting question, the awkward phrasing. “I do,” he said with a nod and a little grin. He pushed some hair behind his ear getting it out of his face, and Tsukishima’s attention was drawn to just how long it had gotten. Down to Yamaguchi’s shoulders really, though most of it was caught in a low pony-tail at the base of his neck. It wasn’t uncommon for souls to change their basic appearance while in heaven. Nothing major, no skin tone or eye color or height, but hair was free game. Had it been a conscious decision on Yamaguchi’s part? Tsukishima’s own hair was fairly long in his angelic form; it reached mid back when he actually let it down.

“I remember how we met,” Yamaguchi went on. “The first time, that is, before I was born. The others tell me that it’s kind of unusual for humans to remember that far back, but the memories come back if something significant happened to them.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled wider. “I’d say you’re pretty significant.”

Tsukishima couldn’t help his almost smile, the flush he could feel on his cheeks. Fuck, he’d understood when the human body had succumbed to stupid stuff like that, but now his true form was doing it too? His wings were fluffing up as well, another sign of happiness he basically never showed.

But it was over just as soon as it had started, the good feelings draining away as he remembered why he was really here. He ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his head in another human display of discomfort and guilt.

“Listen,” he started, and was startled into looking up when Yamaguchi reached across the table and took his free hand.

So kind. Yamaguchi’s face was so fucking kind, all soft lines and warm colors and understanding practically dripping from every pore. “It’s okay,” he murmured, and Tsukishima’s brow furrowed. “It’s okay, everything, all of it, it’s okay.”

It couldn’t be okay. It fucking _wasn’t_ okay, there was no way in heaven or hell. He opened his mouth to say so, but Yamaguchi beat him to it again.

“You were down there a while, you know.”

Tsukishima stopped, blinked. “What?”

“After I died.” The words made Tsukishima flinch, but Yamaguchi was as calm and soft as ever. “You were down there a whole week. Your Division wouldn’t tell me what you were doing, and I couldn’t figure out if there was a way to check in on you.”

“Souls can watch Earth, but only from certain planes,” Tsukishima found himself replying on rote. He’d been asked by enough souls that he had the answer memorized, even though technically he was off duty when he was roaming the planes. Souls just saw someone with wings and came right on over. It was why he stuck to the less populated ones.

“You’ll have to show me how sometime,” Yamaguchi replied easily, but then he squeezed Tsukishima’s hand and focused again. “I was worried, you know. I was up here, why weren’t you coming back? I know you didn’t have much of a life there, there wouldn’t have been that much to set straight before you left.”

More like Tsukishima hadn’t bothered with anything, not even ending his lease or quitting his job. Fuck, Akiteru and Saeko were probably worried sick about him. But in the end, not even they were that important, especially when he knew he would see them again someday after they’d crossed over.

Yamaguchi went on unperturbed. “I figured you were probably beating yourself up, feeling guilty. Your Division was kind of obvious about something being wrong, by the way. They were all really worried about you too, even if they tried to keep it from me. But I want you to know I don’t blame you. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m not upset you didn’t save me.”

The words didn’t even register at first, they were so ludicrous. Tsukishima just stared for a long moment, letting them roll meaninglessly through his mind, his brow creased, confusion evident in his features. He was already shaking his head before all the implications had even completely set in.

“No, no,” he said, then leaned forward with his arms on the table, trying to convey just how serious this was. “You don’t understand, protecting humans from Omens is my _job._ It’s what I _do_. Letting you die, it was…it was…” But he couldn’t find the words for how horrible, how much of a betrayal it had been, and just shook his head again.

Yamaguchi squeezed his hand tighter, a gentle smile still touching his lips but his expression sad now. “I know. But everyone makes mistakes sometimes, Tsukki. And in the grand scheme of things? This one wasn’t so bad.”

And that just blew Tsukishima away a little, his mouth dropping open. “Not…not so bad?” he echoed incredulously. “Yamaguchi, _you’re dead,_ just in case you didn’t notice. How the hell is that not so bad?”

That sad smile grew even sadder, bittersweet. “You didn’t really know human me for very long,” Yamaguchi murmured, gaze flickering away for the first time that night before returning. “But I didn’t have a whole lot going for me, down there.”

“What?”

Yamaguchi shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable now. But he didn’t pull his hand away and his gaze was steadier, almost determined. “I didn’t have friends, my family was distant at best, and I had no idea what I was ever going to do with my life. A dead end job, no education, and an expensive hobby. I would have crashed, eventually.”

“That’s not the point,” Tsukishima argued. “Your life is precious, you only get one. It’s about possibility, chance, the ability to do anything you want! And I took that away from you!”

“Tsukishima.” His name was hard, Yamaguchi’s tone firm. “I want you to answer me honestly. What could life have offered me that I can’t get here in heaven?”

“There’s so much!” Tsukishima returned, just as hard. “You don’t age in heaven for one, and you can’t have children. Life here for souls is stationary, fixed, there’s only so much you can change.”

“Now you’re just being obtuse. I would have been with you even on Earth, we couldn’t have had children anyways.”

“We could have adopted!”

A single raised eyebrow, and Tusikishima huffed because yeah, he couldn’t see them as parents either. But that wasn’t the point! Maybe they would have been ready, one day, and now the chance to raise a family of their own was forever out of their grasp.

“Aging doesn’t seem that great of a loss, either,” Yamaguchi continued.

“Aging helps humans mature and brings important milestones in their lives,” Tsukishima countered. Then, more quietly, “I wanted to grow old with you.”

That drew Yamaguchi up short for a moment, his dark eyes blinking rapidly before he smiled softly. “We can still do that here.”

“No,” Tsukishima said, gaze fixed on the table between them. “It’s not the same. This,” he waved a lazy hand, indicating the space around them, “this was an inevitability. We were always going to have this. But being alive? Being on Earth. That was once in a lifetime for you, and a damn near miracle for me.”

Silence. Nothing but the warmth of Yamaguchi’s hand over top of his own and the muted sounds of the street around them, like maybe there were lots of people a block over but here things were quiet and sleepy. When Tsukishima finally looked up Yamaguchi was staring at him, contemplative.

Their eyes met and slowly the tension began to seep from Yamaguchi’s shoulders. “I don’t want to fight with you,” he murmured a minute later. “I was so happy to get to see you again.”

“I’m sorry,” Tsukishima said on rote but Yamaguchi just shook his head with a little smile.

“It’s fine. You’re mourning for me, for the life we might have had. I think I understand now.”

Silently Tsukishima turned his hand over and laced his fingers with his Carissime’s. It felt good, connecting like that, even on such a small scale. And things weren’t perfect; Tsukishima was still guilty, and a little pissed Yamaguchi wasn’t even a little bit upset. But they were closer to an understanding now, and maybe that’s all that needed for the moment.

A couple walking down the street paused, glancing at Tsukishima’s wings with interest. Eventually they passed and turned the corner, but Yamaguchi’s look was knowing. “Wanna go home?”

Tsukishima snorted. “Fuck no, my Division’s there. But I know a few places where we can be alone.”

“Yeah?” Yamaguchi stood from the table, fingers slipping from Tsukishima’s hold. Only this time, as Tsukishima stood as well, his Carissime was there again, stepping into his space, warm and alive and _close_. “Can we fly there?”

“You want to fly?”

“Absolutely!”

He’d never flown with anyone before, but he’d seen other angels do it before. Besides, having Yamaguchi in his arms, just the two of them in the air, nothing but the wind, heaven’s skies, and the rustle of red feathers?

It sounded perfect.

Yamaguchi was already closing his sketchbook and tucking it into his jacket, zipping it up to keep it safe. When he looked up and caught Tsukishima’s eye, he blushed a little. “I was drawing you again,” he admitted, taking the angel’s hand again.

Tsukishima smiled then pulled him to the middle of the street, where he could unfurl his wings to their fullest. Red. Feathers as red as dawn and twice as vibrant, the color of love.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm on [tumblr](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/). Drop a comment here or feel free to yell at me there, either way.


	22. After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the after party, kiddos.

[You and the Moon and Neptune](http://8tracks.com/sagemasterofsass/you-and-the-moon-and-neptune?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button) from [Sagemasterofsass](http://8tracks.com/sagemasterofsass?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button) on [8tracks Radio](http://8tracks.com?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button).

Hey y'all, here's the playlist that I promised. Twenty chapters, twenty songs, the strangest conglomeration you've ever heard. I used some beautiful fanart of this fic for the cover, but wonderful artist please let me know if you'd prefer me not to. I can take it down immediately. (I tried to contact you to ask permission but couldn't figure out how ripp)

 

Anyways, this fic started almost three years ago and like...wow guys. I can't believe some of y'all have stuck around this long. Thank you, seriously. I still remember the day this thing came into being (because it was important, but also because it was the same day I took the best selfie ever???? Still have it, will never delete). It was mid-summer, amazingly bright and the Texas sun was baking everything in sight. I was out with my mom, trying desperately not to stick to the leather seat covers in her truck despite the a/c. Lazily, a memory swam to the surface of my mind as I stared at my arm leaned against the window. A story my mother had told me about how freckles are just kisses from angels. And of course my weeb brain jumped straight to Yamaguchi, and obviously if he was getting angel kisses then the angel in question was Tsukishima. I frantically messaged a friend, and viola. You and the Moon and Neptune was in the works. 

Over the course of three years, writing this fic has brought me both pain and joy, and despite the fact that it feels patchworky to me (due to working on it during such different parts of my life) I still really adore it. I'm really glad y'all were able to come with me on this journey. As of yet, this is the longest fic I've ever written. But next time I take up a project like this? Kindly remind me to finish writing  _before_ I start posting chapters. Seriously. 

To give you an idea of just how and why this fic has spanned so much time, here's a list of things I've done since I started it. 

1) Started college  
2) Moved into the dorm of said college  
3) Moved out of the dorm back in with my parents  
4) Moved into a student apartment  
5) Got a steady job and started paying bills  
6) Decided to transfer schools, and got accepted into UT  
7) Attempted suicide   
8) Was forced to move back home with my parents  
9) Bought a new car so I could commute two and half hours to UT  
10) Moved across town with my parents  
11) Signed a publishing deal (Yes, i'm being published!)  
12) Moved to Austin   
13) Scored the world's best roommate (the very same friend who helped me create this fic. love ya lex!)  
14) Became a drug dealer's accomplice

And now we're here. That's a lot in just a couple of years. And all the while this fic was hanging over me, a constant companion. I may have gotten a few passive aggressive messages asking me to update, but for the most part y'all have been incredibly patient with me. Thanks. 

Now, I was planning on including a couple of tidbits that I wrote near the end from Yamaguchi's perspective about how the angels are actually just giant humanoid birds, but ao3 decided to eat it. So. Sorry?? I'm not rewriting it guys I need to be done with this fic, I want to honestly say it's completely finished. The tidbits weren't great anyways, just stuff about how angel wings move with emotion and how all the angels have giant fluffy nests they sleep in, Tsukki included. I'm planning on writing some more Spanish!Yamaguchi for a new, different fic so just wait for that, k? 

Guess that makes this goodbye! Hope you enjoyed the fic, thanks again for sticking with me. 


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